


The Poisoned Apple

by Deathofme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Blood Purity Nonsense, Community: sshg_exchange, F/M, Gen, Luna Lovegood (Mentioned) - Freeform, Mirror of Erised, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Portrait Dumbledore - Freeform, Post-War, Snow White - Freeform, Umbridge Is Our Big Bad, Voldemort is dead, fairytale adaptation, goblin magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathofme/pseuds/Deathofme
Summary: [Fairytale Adaptation - AU]The war is several years over and the towering figure of Albus Dumbledore deceased and lovingly remembered. Times are dire with the rise of a sinister figure and an obsessive pureblood agenda. Hermione Granger, determined and stubborn, must escape the clutches of this new nemesis, discover the dangerous side to gambling with goblins and learn to trust a mysterious brewer of poisons.Written for the SSHG Exchange 2012
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SSHG Exchange 2012. Re-posting in 2020.
> 
> Not Canon-compliant past OOTP.

**PROLOGUE**

The only sound in the dark hallway was the insistent ‘clack-clack’ of two sensible heeled shoes making their way briskly across the stone. A tiny dry cough punctuated the echoing steps as dust swirled in the chill air.

With the swish of a wand the heavy oak doors opened and the footsteps made their way into the empty chamber. Robes whispered along behind as two cloaked men hefted the large package between them and brought it to the center of the room.

“ _Hem hem_.” She glared at them imperiously and motioned to the left with a stubby finger. Biting back grumbles the two men shifted the tall, awkward package so that it faced her.

“Will that be all, ma’am?”

In a high, girlish voice she said, “You are dismissed.”

“Yes, Headmistress.”

Dolores Umbridge inhaled deeply with a smug grin on her toad-like face as if drinking in the perfume of her newest title. Her hand trembled slightly as she ran her fat fingers along the edge of the cloth, then gripped it tightly and pulled it to the floor.

She whispered to the dark room, “I show not your face but your heart’s desire.”

Smoothing the front of her loud pink cardigan she cleared her throat with another “ _hem hem_ ” and stood expectantly in front of the Mirror of Erised. The mirror stood blankly at first, its dark surface impenetrable, until her reflection began to form, surrounded by fawning dignitaries and the Minster of Magic’s badge pinned on her coat.

She smiled darkly and muttered, “Soon.”

***

**_The Quibbler, V.3.VII_ **

_New Hogwarts Headmistress part troll?_

_Recently instated Hogwarts Headmistress Dolores Umbridge, also Minister of Education at MOM, is just a regular witch with homicidal tendencies and a toad-like complexion._

_OR IS SHE?_

_Recent news from one of our sources has revealed that Umbridge may in fact be part troll, a vicious breed of dangerous beasts commonly found in dungeons, caves and exacting tolls below bridges._

_“She is a halfblood troll trying to pass herself off in decent society and failing. Have you seen those ugly cardigans she wears?”_

_Umbridge's reinstatement to the position after her summary dismissal ten years ago came with the sanction of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge himself (see: “EXCLUSIVE: Fudge called out a hit on Stubby Boardman!”), after the death of former Headmistress Minerva McGonagall._

_Students and former alumni of Hogwarts gather at the school this weekend to mark the eighth anniversary of the end of the Great Wizarding War and for the annual memorial of former Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, war hero, who gave his life in the famous duel against the Dark Lord._

“Luna, she's as nutty as ever, isn't she?”

Hermione looked at Neville over the top of her copy of the Quibbler with a wry smile, before folding up the paper and placing it back into her bag. “She certainly has a flair for the dramatic.”

“I heard she's on another one of her expeditions.”

“Not more Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?”

Neville grinned. “No, it's with the 'Help Save Nessie' society.”

Hermione wanted to laugh out loud, but found herself stifling her mirth and surreptitiously checking to see if the door to their compartment was shut all the way. It had been years since she'd ridden the Hogwarts Express, and the atmosphere inside the train had changed dramatically since her school years. The students inside were quiet and subdued, most sleeping or whispering quietly amongst themselves. Instead of the Prefects that normally patrolled the train aisles, she saw students with the Hogwarts Inquisitorial Squad badges instead.

Neville similarly had been quiet on the train, his lips set in a thin, firm line as he kept a wary eye outside their door. No students had been harassed so far on their ride, but he disliked the tense atmosphere just as much as they did.

He had convinced Hermione to come on the train with him this year for the memorial as Umbridge had placed a stringent checkpoint on all Apparition spots into Hogsmeade this year. While that woman couldn't actually do much in the way of barring Hermione from stepping into Hogwarts, they both thought it would be better to try and avoid as much confrontation as possible. She was here in the Professor's compartment as Neville's guest, as he was Professor Sprout's assistant.

“It's too bad Harry couldn't ride in with us,” Neville said, his eyes still trained outside on the corridor as he watched a seventh year with an Inquisitor's badge walk by.

“You know Harry...he goes up to Hogwarts early every year to make sure the preparations for Dumbledore's memorial are done properly.”

A dark cloud passed over Neville's face at the mention of their former mentor's name. “It's not right, you know...it's not right what they're doing. I never thought I'd have Fudge to thank for anything except that he's let you keep your wand-”

“ _Neville_.” Hermione hissed, shooting him a glare that shut him up quickly. She was touched by the sentiment, but the Hogwarts Express was no place to be airing such grievances. He was going to be the next Herbology professor soon, and she wasn't going to let him jeopardize his position; especially now. The students at Hogwarts would need as many protectors as they could get in the following school years, and Neville and Harry were only two.

He looked sheepishly to the floor. “You're right, sorry. You'll be okay, Hermione...I shouldn't forget that you can take care of yourself.”

Embarrassed by the unabashed show of confidence, she couldn't think of a reply and instead said, “We're pulling into Hogwarts station. Let's go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape heard a knock on his office door and already knew it was Boy Wonder, Harry Potter who wanted his attention. His permanent impatience and dissatisfaction of late was pronounced in everything that he did.

“Ah, the most under-qualified professor to have ever received a position here. Come in.”

The sour look on Potter's face when he entered was worth the baiting alone. They had been colleagues for three years, and miraculously had managed to cultivate a certain amount of civility for the other, but Snape's contempt and Harry's dislike had never abated despite this.

“You're just annoyed that someone else was hired for the Defence position over you again, Professor.” Harry still could never manage calling him 'Snape', and heaven forbid he ever refer to him as 'Severus'. “Umbridge wants you in her office.”

“ _Headmistress_ Umbridge.”

The look of dislike on Harry's face flickered with a touch of hatred for a moment. “As you wish.” With a curt nod, he stalked away from Snape's office, moodier than ever.

At least the boy had learned to keep his mouth shut when he was angry. Perhaps that Weasley girl was exerting a positive influence on him. Snape sighed in annoyance, though he kept up a facade of respect for Umbridge, he disliked her as much as Harry did. Still, it did not do to make enemies out in the open. He finished the last of his notes, replaced the protective wards on his office door, and swept away down the corridor.

If he could, he would have killed Albus again for having the ill manners to die and leave him with this mess.

***

“Professor Snape, do come in.”

The high-pitched giggle that punctuated her every sentence grated on his nerves, but his face remained cool and impartial. “Headmistress, you wished to see me?”

Snape's eyes flickered to the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses of the school on the walls and felt a pang inside at the absence of Minerva's likeness. She had refused to have her portrait hang inside the office when she found out who was meant to replace her, and it was perhaps a good thing. If Minerva's portrait hung above Umbridge's head they would have never heard the end of violent screaming and objects being thrown about the place.

Actually...a pity the more he thought of it...

“I was hoping you could help me with a little something, Professor.”

_Oh stop mincing about with words, woman, and just spit it out._ “Yes?”

“I have here a list of ingredients that I require, all of which I was led to believe you hold in your private stores.” She pushed forth a small piece of parchment with her stubby fingers and an odd glint in her eye.

Snape felt his back stiffen, and he fought to hide the incredulity from his face. Without even looking down at the parchment, he asked, “From my _private_ stores? Headmistress, you do realize these are ingredients I have gone to great pains and inconvenience to acquire over fifteen years. These are not meant for Hogwarts use-”

“And yet here they are stored and protected under my roof...” He hid his cringe at her use of the word 'my'. “...let me reassure you, Professor, that this is not intended for a student project.”

“May I ask what your intentions are?”

“You may not.” She gave him one of those plastic smiles and tapped the piece of parchment on her desk insistently. “I trust you'll deliver these items at your next convenience. I'll expect them on my desk tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Headmistress.” Snape touched the parchment with only the barest tips of his fingers before whisking it away into one of his sleeves. It was a good thing they had already moved Albus' portrait out onto the grounds so he could attend his own memorial later.

The man was going to get a bloody earful from him.

***

Hermione smiled and swept Harry up into a big bear hug, the first time today she had been able to express herself unreservedly. He hugged just as fiercely back and then held her at arm's length to 'have a good look at her'. “I'm so glad you came.”

Hermione looked about the small crowd that was beginning to gather and saw a familiar smattering of red hair, but noticed they were a few heads short. “Aren't Ron and George coming?”

Harry's lips twisted with annoyance and she noticed his eyes flicker over to Umbridge, mingling with Ministry officials at the edge of the crowd. “No, they're minding the shop in Hogsmeade. George has been banned from coming and Ron decided he shouldn't be left alone.”

Hermione was appalled and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Can she do that?”

Harry shrugged, defeated. “Technically, yes. This memorial is sponsored by the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and she's decided to keep it going...to her rules of course. She wants people to associate her with a war hero.”

The revelation of a new layer of insidiousness was chilling. They were here for a happy event though, so Hermione decided not to be distracted by it for the moment. “Are Ron and George still fighting?”

Harry laughed at that, ruefully trying to smooth down the part of his hair that stuck up in the back. “Well, they're speaking to each other again.”

“I thought the talking Fred Weasley punching finger puppet was a little idiotic, if you ask me.”

“Well we both know how much it upset Ron, but George said it's what Fred would have wanted. Don't tell Ron I said this, but I think he has a point.”

They linked arms and strolled around the Hogwarts grounds, making small talk as they waited for the memorial to begin. Ginny finally managed to extricate herself from Molly's kisses and worry ('Do you two have enough linens and sheets? Do you need me to come over and sort out your pantry?') and caught up with them. She laughed and pointed to somewhere in the crowd. “I think Neville's found himself an admirer.”

They looked over and giggled quietly at the sight of Neville trying to fend off a crowd of third year Hufflepuff girls who were all obviously trying to attract his attention. Harry was still a favourite among the female students at Hogwarts for Professor's crush, but it was dwindling away as they learned of his engagement to Ginny Weasley. Their attentions were turning to the next available and youngest Professor in school, and the poor thing was single.

“Where's Fang?” Hermione suddenly asked, looking over to Hagrid's hut and noticing the deadly silence. The more she looked the more she realized several things out of place. His crossbow and galoshes were gone, the windows were boarded up, and his pumpkin patch was empty.

Harry's face darkened again, and Hermione already knew who was going to be behind this. “She sacked him. Well, he already knew she was going to sack him the second he heard so he packed up and went to France. He stayed at Bill and Fleur's for a little bit, and now I think he's trying to reconnect with Madame Maxime.”

The chimney for Hagrid's little hut was emitting a long, thin trail of black smoke. The thought of someone living there that wasn't Hagrid made Hermione feel uneasy. “So who's in the hut now?”

“MacNair.”

Hermione's eyes widened just as Ginny spat out a quiet curse into the ground. “As what?”

Harry quirked a eyebrow at her. “As the new groundskeeper, keeper of keys, and Executioner of Discipline for the Inquisitorial squad.”

“She's not even trying to be subtle, is she?”

“She's a hag.” Ginny had her arms folded across her chest in displeasure, shaking her head. “Maybe Loony Lovegood's onto something and that woman _is_ part troll.”

“ _Ginny_ ,” Harry hissed, scandalized, but also trying to hide a laugh.

Hermione couldn't help but smile too, but was shaking her head. “That's someone you won't see here today, and I think we aren't giving her enough credit. Her paper might be a bit dotty, but she's managed to insult Umbridge in the worst way possible.”

“By calling her a halfblood.” Ginny let out an appreciative whistle. “She may be mad, but she's got guts.”

Harry smiled, taking their hands and leading them back to the memorial which was starting soon. “Just wait until she finds smuggled copies plastered on the walls of the bathrooms in first term.”

***

“...Headmaster Dumbledore taught us that there will always be hope, and that those with genuine heart and courage will always win out over adversity...”

Severus made a quiet gagging nose in the back of his throat, he was sure the old man was loving this but it was positively saccharine. The Longbottom boy was fighting to keep tears and a quiver from his voice now...it was tedious.

Hot, uncomfortable and annoyed, Snape decided to amuse himself with a different game and looked about the crowd to see who else was just as bored as he was. As his eyes moved about the different faces and bodies he felt an uncomfortable tickle in the back of his mind. Something was out of place, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Hermione had the same uncomfortable feeling, but instead of a tickle it was a chill down her spine. What she realized a few seconds before Snape did was that there were no halfblood or muggleborn students in the crowd. She was the only one.

Uneasy, her eyes suddenly locked with Umbridge's, who gave her a smile that looked more like an animal baring its teeth in warning. Hermione refused to look away, not wanting to give that woman the satisfaction, but Umbridge had already turned her attention elsewhere.

Hermione felt herself sink a little in her seat as she tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Whatever that woman was trying to do, Hermione hoped she wasn't in the line of fire.

***

“Miss Granger, good of you to come, well done, well done, oh hullo Arthur.” Hermione shared a look with Mr. Weasley as Cornelius Fudge pumped her arm up and down enthusiastically while barely sparing a glance for Arthur. Mr. Weasley mouthed a small 'we'll be over there' and politely excused himself, without patience for office politics today.

“And how did you find the ceremony, Minister?” Hermione asked politely.

“Jolly grand! Now, Granger, that I've managed to steal you for a moment, I did want to have a word with you...”

Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes. Of course. Being re-elected after the end of the war had done wonders for Fudge's self-esteem, but he was still in the end a very insecure man who relied heavily on others to do the thinking for him. He had bothered Harry for years to take a position as Head Auror and Harry had stunned them all by rejecting the offer and taking a Professor's position at Hogwarts instead. Ron had made his dislike for Fudge well known and stayed on at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes (where frankly he was making more money than he would have at the Ministry), so the last of the golden trio Fudge had to recruit was Hermione.

She was shocked when she was approached, honestly, because Umbridge's influence in the Minister's office was growing more and more overt. However, having one of the Hogwarts heroes working in his office and being the most brilliant witch of her generation was PR for Fudge's office that even he knew was stupid to pass up.

When Umbridge had passed new stringent laws on blood lineage and the removal of wand carrying privileges, Fudge had fought to keep Hermione and had signed a special dispensation personally to allow her to live and work as a witch. Hermione had been tempted to be touched by the privilege, except that she knew it was only extended to her because she was useful. The other muggleborn wizards and witches she knew weren't as fortunate and she knew of many who had gone into hiding or had left England altogether. Now and again Dean Thomas still sent her postcards from America out of solidarity.

“There was something I wanted to discuss with you as well, Minister.” Fudge had a worried look on his face. Every time Hermione opened with those particular words, he knew he was in for a furious debate with her. “Students from Muggle or mixed families have always been allowed attendance at Hogwarts – yet I see none of them here today.”

Fudge 'hem'ed and 'haw'ed for a little, frowning furiously at her. “Now, you know that isn't anything to do with me, you'd have to take that up with Headmistress Umbridge, she's in charge of Hogwarts attendance now.” He shook an admonishing finger in her face. “You're trying to distract me, Granger, I won't have it. I wanted to have a word with you about your proposal to open a Department for the Protective Rights of All Magical Beings.”

_“At least you haven't called it P.R.A.T.”_ Ron had joked to her when she told him about it, narrowly avoiding the newspaper she threw at his head.

“I'm afraid your proposal has been rejected. Too many of the cabinet ministers feel that it is a waste of resources that are needed towards rebuilding wizarding England. We need to focus our priorities.”

Hermione had expected the answer, but it didn't make hearing the final decision any easier. Fudge could see she was about to protest and barreled along before he could be interrupted.

“You've also been reassigned within the office.” Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. “We feel that your abilities are better put towards participating with the Department of Finances. You'll be acting as the Ministry liaison with Gringott's bank.”

Hermione almost spluttered with rage. “ _We_? Minister, is this truly your decision?”

He gave her an apologetic smile, twisting his bowler hat in his hands before placing it back on his head. “If anyone can pick up Gobbledegook, it'd be you. Good day, Granger.”

He walked quickly away, absorbed back into the crowd before Hermione could think of an appropriate hex to ruin his evening with.

***

“You should have let the gargoyles keep her locked out of the office.”

Albus' eyes crinkled into a smile. Even though he was a painting now, rendered into a flat dimension bordered by a beautiful frame, that smile shone through and hadn't been lost. “I'm a man who only desires peace, Severus.”

Snape snorted quietly, moodily picking loose threads from the cuffs of his sleeves as he murmured quietly to Albus' portrait. “You mean you like to keep an eye on her. It's a pity you don't have the means to do anything about it.”

Albus gave him a knowing, loaded glance, and merely said, “I always trust you to do the right thing, Severus.”

Snape was about to say something biting back, perhaps the old grievance of being a dead man's errand boy, when they both noticed a bit of a commotion in the crowd. “Hullo, what's this?”

Snape pushed himself to his feet and strode over to what was seeming to be a heated discussion between two people everyone else was politely trying to ignore. When he came closer and saw it was a discussion between Granger and Umbridge, he almost wished he hadn't come over at all.

Then again...he had been complaining that he was bored...

“...and you have no right to undo every principle that Hogwarts has stood for. As Headmistress you should be upholding the values that make this school great!”

Umbridge smiled sweetly, and sickeningly, at her though a vein in her neck was bulging in an alarming manner. She spoke as if Hermione were a small child throwing a tantrum. “While I do appreciate your 'enthusiasm' for the running of this school, Miss Granger, I believe your idea of values and priorities do not accurately reflect those of Hogwarts. And seeing as one of us is in a position more qualified to accurately asses this, I would implore you to rethink your complaints.”

Hermione looked affronted. “Are you threatening me?”

Umbridge gave a coquettish laugh, though the sinister pleasure in her eyes was undeniable. “Threaten? I don't see anyone brandishing wands here, Miss Granger. Perhaps your previous work within the Minister's office has made you paranoid. But do understand, Miss Granger, that I am not a woman who believes in making idle threats. I prefer taking action and performing my responsibilities for the betterment of the magical community.”

“We all know exactly what you mean by _that_.” Hermione's tone was cold enough to freeze over the Giant Squid's lake; perhaps even the entirety of the River Thames. Umbridge hadn't missed the insinuation of that comment either, and Snape could see her puffing herself up to do something willfully detrimental.

Smoothly he stepped in, and said, “Headmistress...Miss Granger...I do believe it is time for everyone to congregate in the Great Hall for the reception. Headmistress, we are awaiting your speech.”

Umbridge deflated, though he could see her tremble slightly with anger, but she swallowed (looking more toad-like than ever), gave another forced, unsettling smile, and turned on her heel. He could see Granger still fuming, not as quick to hide her rage, and sneered at her.

“Contain yourself, Granger. Your behaviour is unbecoming at such an event.”

Her eyes flashed angrily at him and spat, “I'm sure you _love this_ ,” before storming away. Snape was tempted to throw out some other barb about her rudeness, but decided he didn't fancy having his robes set on fire by her again (oh how Albus had laughed when he told him). Instead, he walked back to his chair, sitting down in it heavily as Albus gave him another one of those measured looks.

“I am so sick of your bloody house, old man.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Your wand please.”

Hermione handed her wand to the officious looking goblin at the entrance of Gringott's bank, quelling her sudden fear that it would be taken away and not returned to her. However, after a moment of examining the wand carefully and checking a little book from his coat pocket, he returned it to her and said, “Welcome, Miss Granger. Please proceed to the front desk. Do not touch anything along your way.”

Hermione quickly took back her wand and stowed it away into her robes. She walked down Gringott's long hall passing by several teller counters and various witches and wizards in queues to use the bank.

“But it's _all right here_! He left that money to me – I'm his grandson!”

Hermione, and a few other onlookers, were distracted by a man arguing furiously with one of the tellers, a goblin who looked just as interested in his protests as he would a piece of lint on his jacket. The man was waving a piece of parchment in the goblin's face.

“Sir, I am afraid that the contents of Vault 437, belonging to the former Mister Alpharius Abbadin can only be released to another wizard or witch. This is wizarding law.”

“But I _am_ a wizard.”

The goblin was unmoved. “Really? Our wand-check determined that the wand you are currently using is a temporary restricted use wand issued by the Ministry of Magic while your blood status is being determined. Once you've passed your probation and have full wizarding status you may return to us and we would be happy to fulfill the actions in Mr. Abbadin's will. However, for now, we will have to ask you to leave.”

The man, grandson of the late Alpharius, looked around and noticed that a goblin had arrived with two security trolls. He moodily shrugged off their hands and headed for the exit, his humiliation burning on his face. He noticed Hermione staring, recognized her from the newspapers and suddenly spat, “What makes you so special, mudblood?”

Shocked, Hermione watched as he was shoved out the doors of Gringott's and only remembered that she had somewhere to be when an old witch politely coughed behind her. She realized she had been blocking the way to one of the queues, and quickly made the rest of the way to the front desk without incident.

“Ah, Miss Granger, we've been expecting you.” An old goblin with tufts of hair poking out of his ears looked at her overtop his half-moon spectacles, his sharp teeth visible momentarily when he grinned. “How nice to see you again after these years.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Griphook. I'm here to see the account books and the daily register.”

“ _Senior Manager_.”

He looked at her for a moment, and then to her surprise looked back down the ledger in front of him and began to work in it. After a moment of scribbling he finally addressed her again. “I'm afraid that isn't allowed, Miss Granger.”

She was flummoxed. “Why not?”

Griphook smiled at her in a way he must have thought was pleasant, but was actually quite threatening. “Because those records are the property of Gringott's bank and are our responsibility _only_. They are of no concern to the Ministry of Magic.”

“I believe they are-”

“-Miss Granger,” he interrupted, “What exactly do you think your duties entail as the Ministry liaison to Gringott's bank?”

Hermione was taken aback. Obviously their idea of what her job was here was different from the impression she had received back in the office. “What did the former liaison do here if not report on the day to day operations of the bank?”

Griphook folded his hands together and gave her another patient, and terrifying, smile. “Mr. Perkins was given an office on our premises and came in once a week. I believe he was working on a crime novel. It's down the hall to your right, the third door on the left.”

Griphook went back to his ledger and Hermione knew that the conversation was over. Disgruntled, she left and made her way down the hall. An office was a start, she would need a place to collect her thoughts.

***

“This is highly irregular,” said the voice, muffled behind a black cloth. MacNair grunted, hefting the frame upwards to get a better grip on it and barked at Filch, “Keep your end up, you lazy Squib.”

They made their way past two heavy wooden doors, which opened at a flick of MacNair's wand, and then set the heavy frame down on the ground. Umbridge looked to the both of them, impatient, and gestured to a spot on the wall. MacNair glared at Filch before they hefted the frame up again and placed it against the spot. Umbridge jabbed her wand in the frame's direction and it stuck to the surface.

“You may dismiss yourselves,” she said, turning her back to them once again. Filch bowed and scraped before MacNair shoved him with the toe of his boot and closed the doors behind them.

When the cloth was removed from Dumbledore's portrait he blinked momentarily, unused to the darkness. “Ahh, Dolores, now if you had wanted a private word with me we could have done it in the office.”

She smirked back at him with a self-satisfied look on her face. “Oh, I thought that you would find your new surroundings much more suiting and comfortable, Albus.”

He looked to the edge of his frame and gave a small sigh, folding his hands together and resting them on his lap. “I see you've placed a charm on my painting to ensure I cannot leave my frame. You were always very clever, Dolores...Ravenclaw was a good fit for you. If only your sense of competition wasn't your first priority I would have made you a Prefect.”

“I'm not here to catch up for old time's sake, Headmaster.” Umbridge, for once, wasn't playing at being nice and the drop of her facade worried Dumbledore. He watched from his spot on the wall as she made her way to the center of the room where a tall object was draped in a black cloth. She gripped the material and yanked it off the reveal the Mirror of Erised.

“Oh Dolores...what have you done?”

She stood in front of the mirror, triumphant, and admiring something he could not see. Dumbledore found he couldn't see anything in the mirror except for the reflection of the room. Obviously as a portrait, the Mirror of Erised would not work for him. Why had she brought him to this room?

Without being able to tear her eyes away from the mirror, Umbridge finally spoke to him again. “Despite all my research into the mirror I find it taxing to learn all of its secrets. And I thought to myself, why waste my time when I have an expert on the matter hanging right in my office?”

Dumbledore's brow knitted together in confusion. “What exactly is it about the mirror you wished to know?”

“I want to know how it works.”

Dumbledore was perplexed, but tried to speak patiently. “It shows neither the truth nor the future, only your heart's greatest desire.”

“I _know_ that!” She snapped. “But you've managed to manipulate the mirror's magic before to perform more than that simple task. I found out about what happened when Harry Potter was in his first year and how you hid the Philosopher's Stone using this mirror.”

“You wanted to hide something, Dolores?”

“No.”

The look on her face did nothing to reassure Dumbledore in the slightest.

***

**_The Quibbler, V.3.VIII._ **

_Umbridge, granddaughter of You-Know-Who!_

_Our sources at the Quibbler have come upon a startling discovery concerning Hogwart's most hated Headmistress in all of history: Umbridge is the granddaughter of the deceased Dark Lord, once terror of all wizarding England. And she is hellbent on carrying out her grandfather's dark legacy._

_WHY ELSE? Would she allow pardons and amnesties for former Death Eaters?_

_WHY ELSE? Would former Death Eaters be hired as professors and staff at Hogwarts?_

_WHY ELSE? Would she pass through laws that serve only pureblood rights?_

_WHY ELSE? Would she order the extermination of all large sea beasts such as Nessie, Champ and Ogopogo?_

_Umbridge, the new scion of evil. We at the Quibbler want you to join us in calling her She-Who-Must-Never-Wear-Pink._

“Give that here, Bones, I'm afraid the Quibbler's banned from Hogwarts grounds.”

Anthony Bones (younger cousin of Susan Bones) looked up at him through his thick spectacles, and moodily handed the tabloid paper over. However, in a quiet voice he hissed, “Best stuff's on page three, professor!” before zipping off down the hallway to class.

Harry chuckled lightly to himself, sneaking a peek inside the Quibbler, before stowing it away into his robes for later. It had saddened his heart to see so few children running around the halls of Hogwarts, almost half the student population disappearing after Umbridge banned half-bloods and Muggleborns from attending. Most of the houses fared well enough in number, except for Hufflepuff who were too few to even have a decent Quidditch team this year.

“Oh, if I could, I'd step up and head Hufflepuff house. Poor blighters need someone when Professor Sprout retires.”

Harry had chucked Neville playfully on the shoulder in the staff room when they were alone and able to speak freely. “Sorry, Neville, but you're a Gryf like me, remember?”

Remembering the glum look on Neville's face was enough to make Harry angry all over again. But what was the point? Ginny had been right after giving him a stern talking to when he had lost all composure over the summer about the new hires at Hogwarts. Professor Sprout, Binns, Sinistra and Snape were the only original professors left. Every other subject had been replaced with one of Umbridge's toadies, a few of them being former Death Eaters who had 'reformed'. Muggle Studies and Divination had been completely obliterated as offered subjects in the school. Even Madam Pomfrey was gone. An intern from St. Mungo's had been brought in to replace her, and the young woman was nice and cared enough, but Umbridge still held her job in her pudgy fingers.

That left only him, Neville, Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra. And both were retiring soon. Professor Sprout had raged that she wouldn't retire now, but she was getting on in years and after a nasty incident with a venomous tentacula that she normally would have been able to deal with, even she had to admit that she was getting too old for the job. “If you get yourself fired you're leaving Neville all on his lonesome to try and protect the students. We know Neville's brave, he's a war hero like you, but he's still only one person. Even the both of you isn't enough...”

“So don't do anything stupid!” That had been Ginny's mantra all summer...and Harry hefted a sigh, but she was right. Things had to change soon...but in the meanwhile he would have to wait for an opportunity, and make sure no students were harmed on his watch in the meanwhile.

He had often wondered if he would be able to make an ally of Snape. Yes, the man was a former Death Eater, but Harry also wasn't as stupid as his former Potions Master thought he was. He had noticed Snape's welcome for the return of his former brothers was as warm as the kind he'd give Harry should he ever show up unannounced at his door. And what had he actually done during the last great battle? He had just disappeared into the shadows...

Despite his instincts sending him very confusing signals that he might be able to trust the man, Harry had found no opportunity of late to be able to get a quiet word with him. The great bat was stomping around the hallways in the foulest mood Harry had ever seen him in.

He was just glad that whoever had sparked Snape's ire it wasn't him. Though he did wonder who could annoy Snape more than he could.

***

“Basilisk scales...blood of a silver werewolf... _acromantula venom?_ ”

Snape threw the piece of parchment onto his desk, his fists colliding with the surface and causing all of his ink pots to upset and turn over. Furious, he crumpled the piece of parchment into a ball and struggled violently to stop himself from throwing it into his fireplace.

_How did that harridan know he had all of these things? Did she know how much they COST?_

Almost an arm and a limb, literally, in some cases. Snape could sell the contents of his private stores and be able to buy a small villa and still have money to spare. And here was this stupid, imbecilic, greedy, entitled, toad-faced woman requesting precious items here and there as if he were a take-away shop.

_She probably uses a fraction of them and leaves waste..._ he thought bitterly to himself, still having a violent encounter silently in his office. He had learned to keep his rages private, and only rarely did it ever leave a mark in his private quarters. But today it seemed like some jars would have the misfortune of being smashed to keep his emotions discreet.

He picked up a jar with a pickled doxy inside, ready to hurl it at a stain on his wall he had always hated, when he suddenly paused. The hand holding the jar lowered slowly, and he looked back to the parchment in his hand. He spread it open and re-read the ingredients carefully, also thinking back to the previous requests she had made.

...Snape couldn't pinpoint exactly what potion Umbridge was attempting to brew, but it was either the foulest tasting soup in the world...or it was a poison that was completely undetectable, even to magical diagnostic spells.

“What are you doing, you foul woman?”

***

Hermione lightly kicked against the floor with her foot and her chair spun lazily in a circle. Once it stopped she kicked out again, rotating the other way and let out a long sigh instead of the scream of frustration she wanted to vent. She was _so bored_.

The office was small and filled with nothing useful. The desk was virtually empty save for a sheet of parchment she found with crude, scribbled notes outlining a plot for an awful crime story. Perkins' work, she assumed. Apart from that there was a pot containing an ex-plant, some empty filing cabinets and a spinny chair.

If Fudge's idea had been to get her out of the way where she couldn't cause any trouble...someone had given him a good idea.

Frustrated, Hermione opened the door to her office and peeked outside. The “Employees Only” corridor was long and narrow with several doors spanning its length, all giving the distinction of being cramped together. A fastidious looking goblin bustled forward, paying her no attention, and disappeared into one of the many offices. Hermione ducked her head back into her office, swinging the door closed so that it was only open ajar. She watched for several minutes as more goblins hurried to and fro.

A bell sounded somewhere in the corridor and she saw a flurry of commotion as several goblins appeared from the labyrinth of doors and out into the main hallway. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was early afternoon. Tea time perhaps? The thought of goblins gathering around all gingerly holding up cups of tea and biscuits brought a smile to her face.

Glancing from one end of the hall to the other, Hermione waited a few more minutes until she was sure no one else was coming. She stepped out into the hallway, closing her office door quietly behind her. She looked up nervously into the corners of the ceilings before reminding herself the magical community had no use for CCTV security cameras like the Muggle world and she was being paranoid for no reason.

Hermione crept down the length of the hallway, peering through doors, and trying to find her bearings. All of the offices were tiny, and overflowing with stacks of papers.

When she came to the last door at the end of the hallway she noticed it was much larger and heavier than the rest. She tried the doorknob but it wouldn't budge. Slipping out her wand she muttered ' _Alohomora'_ under her breath, just on the off-chance. It didn't work. A small frown of concentration on her brow, Hermione tapped the door at each of the four corners. There were powerful wards protecting the door and sealing it into place.

_Goblin magic_. Of course. Goblins were highly protective and secretive creatures, and their brand of magic was very different from a witch or wizard's. Hermione pursed her lips in thought. The records she was looking for had the highest chance of being behind this door. But a bank, especially one run by goblins, would have the most powerful wards possible to guard its inner workings. _Was goblin magic at all similar to house elf magic?_

Hermione stowed her wand away and lifted her head high into the air. There was nothing more she could do here at Gringott's for the moment. She had some books to find, and some research to do.

***

“Oh, Albus, don't look so forlorn!”

Umbridge was positively glowing with excitement, her face brightened and softened with pleasure. It took the years from her face, rather like when someone experienced something uplifting or beautiful and basked in their peace. Albus looked away from her glow in positive misery, knowing its seed and how damning it was.

“I implore you, Dolores, stay from this madness. You cannot use desire as a guide to your actions, it is selfish in nature and destructive...”

Dumbledore already knew she would not heed his words, but he felt as if he had to try anyway. Umbridge just glanced over at him and with a girlish giggle brushed away his pleading. He sighed with a heavy heart.

“If you must continue with this folly then at least allow me to return to my usual hanging. I have done as you requested, and I am now longing for my usual spot on the wall...”

Umbridge clucked her tongue disapprovingly as if scolding a student's misbehaviour. “Now, now, Albus, I can't have you trying to run off so quickly! Not as if you could, really...I still need your insight in interpreting the Mirror.”

Albus' face sagged. For all of his hundred plus years he had looked forward to death as a time for peace...it seemed he had been a fool in that regard as well. “I couldn't possibly-”

Umbridge ignored him, staring at her reflection in the Mirror. “I see England exactly as I want it to be...as it _should_ be. All perfect and in order and running smoothly. And I see Cornelius now, poor doddering old fool that he is. Such a weak chin...”

“The Mirror is no true guide, Dolores. It is still not showing you a true representation of the path you must take to achieve your heart's desire, only the clearest manifestation of the steps _you_ believe you must take.”

She turned her ice-blue eyes over to him, and although they were crinkled in a smile, they were chilly. “Well, then it is all to the better that I am one of those people blessed with confidence in their own judgment.”

She paced in front of the mirror, her gaze greedily drinking in whatever was reflected on its surface. She tapped a stubby finger against her lip.

“Cornelius...”


	4. Chapter 4

_...Goblins are unique amongst magical creatures not only in their level of intelligence and sentience, but also in their prevailing sense of self. Their most defining quality will be the exclusive sense of 'Goblinhood' they share amongst the species, to the point of active exclusion. Everyone else is 'Other'._

_While it is simple for the wizarding community to see this as an almost zealous form of xenophobia, to the goblin it is a matter of pride and a treasured quality._

Hermione rubbed her temples, yawning. She had fallen into her old habits of study and her small flat was littered with books, notes and empty mugs of tea. It was already well past midnight and Crookshanks was yowling furiously that it was past her bedtime and snuggle time for him. She scratched him lazily behind the ears as she finished copying the last sentence from that paragraph.

The key was somewhere in this small, seemingly superficial piece of information. She could feel all the puzzle pieces now gathered in her mind...it was time to sleep and let it all come together on its own.

***

Snape glowered at the gargoyles positioned outside the entrance to the Headmistress' office.

“I hope you hate your jobs more than I do.”

For once the gargoyles had nothing smart to say back, but Snape thought he saw a hint of embarrassment on their stony faces. After a moment one finally spoke.

“The Headmistress is away.”

Snape tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. “She left explicit instructions for me to deliver this to her today.”

“You cannot enter when the Headmistress is away.”

“I have better things to be doing than to run around as her errand dog. Like contemplating my own death. Believe me I do not relish this task, so I am quite content with leaving right now and informing her when she returns that a bloody piece of stone barred me from its completion. Her ire might still turn towards me, but it also might be directed at you. She has a lot of it to go around.”

The gargoyle pondered this in stillness for a moment, and then Snape heard the familiar creak of the staircase descending to let him up.

He was in a foul mood and wishing bitter ends on everything under the sun as he stamped over to her desk and unceremoniously dumped more potions ingredients onto its surface.

The office was always subdued, the different portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses usually pretended to be asleep these days. However, as he was turning to leave Snape was bothered by the utter silence. He glanced about the room to try and discern its cause when he noticed an absent spot on the wall.

“Where is Albus?”

The portraits snored more loudly.

“Get up you senile fools, _where is Albus_?”

Some of the portraits cracked an eye open, but then closed them firmly shut once more, their snoring growing louder. Snape looked furiously around at them until his eyes fell on Phineas Nigellus.

“Phineas.”

The sly, clever looking man let out an annoyed sigh and opened his eyes. “Severus. You're looking dour as ever.”

“Oh, you are the height of wit.”

Phineas Nigellus looked nervously about his frame and in a small voice said, “She's taken him away. We're not sure where. About a week ago. We haven't seen a trace of him since, not even in his other frames.”

Snape felt his insides go cold. “Where? She didn't say anything?”

Phineas looked moodily away. “Don't ask anymore, please.”

Snape felt his mouth tighten into a grimace. “Cowards.” He strode angrily from the room.

***

“And how are you today, Miss Granger?”

Hermione smiled pleasantly back at Griphook, though she felt rigid inside. His smiles were always polite but there was such a calculating glean to his eyes that she never felt quite at ease.

“Well, thank you. Thought I'd make use of my office here for some paperwork.”

“But of course,” he said grandly, though there was no true warmth to his voice. Hermione quickly left and made her way to the staff corridor.

All of the goblins gave her that uneasy feeling, though Griphook more so. It seemed to be a very goblin thing to always be calculating and measuring. She wondered how they truly thought of humans...most likely as something to be assessed for later use.

Hermione locked the door to her office behind her and tapped her wand in the direction of the four quadrants of the room. She chanted lightly under her breath as her wards fell into place. She would be performing some tricky, involving magic and wanted an extra precaution to make sure the Gringott's goblins did not detect her spellwork.

She sat down cross-legged on the floor and pulled out a thick book from her bag. Flourishing her wand in the air, she closed her eyes and concentrated.

It took her about an hour to complete the various sets of charms and spells. First, to cloak her wand. Second, to cloak her own magical aura. Third, and most difficult, to place a bubble about herself that was an imitation of...'goblin-ness'.

She looked up at the clock and waited five minutes before she heard the tea bell ring. She waited another five patiently, before creeping out of her office. The corridor was empty.

Hermione quickly made her way down to the door at the end. She took a deep breath, and then stroked the keyhole with her finger. She heard a series of heavy tumblers fall and click, and when the last had been triggered, tried the door knob. It twisted easily and smoothly in her hand.

_It worked!_

Her hunch had been correct and she had been able to exploit the fastidious goblin 'sense of self'. Goblins liked their own exclusive spaces, and they were also arrogant about the superiority of their magic. She had banked on the hope that the ward placed on the door was one any goblin could pass through, but no witch or wizard.

_Granger one, Gringott's nil._

Hermione quickly slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. To her surprise she saw another room filled with...filing cabinets.

She wondered what it was about goblins that nurtured this love of record-keeping. Still, she was not disappointed, the documents she was hoping to find had an even better chance of being in this bureaucrat's haven.

Hermione opened the different cabinets and sifted through the records. She noticed they were all handwritten, some papers written in Gobbledegook, and some English.

She searched about the room and noticed one cabinet placed away from the others. The small placard announced it as the ' _Accounts Unsettled_ ' cabinet.

Curious, Hermione opened one of the drawers and flicked through the contents. It contained numerous pieces of parchments, all which looked to be contracts. The wording was vague and only hinted at the nature of the transaction...but she felt a niggling feeling in her gut. Something was ominous about these records.

Her eyes lit upon a name that jumped off one of the contracts and she quickly pulled it out.

_Fudge, Cornelius._

_This contract is magically binding and is only terminated upon its full and exact completion upon terms agreed by the two parties of Cornelius Fudge and the Goblins of Gringott's Bank._

_The undersigned acknowledge this relationship as Unbreakable until the agreed terms have been satisfied, and that if the terms are not completed by the agreed date it is considered a termination of Bad Faith and the Goblins of Gringott's will settle the account with impunity._

Hermione saw Fudge's signature scrawled along the bottom, at once familiar, but shaky as if he had been nervous when signing. Glancing at the date year she noticed this had been signed many years ago. The Gringott's signature line bore a very officious looking stamp mark.

_What sort of transaction was this?_ Hermione replaced the parchment and skimmed a few more. All were nearly identical, all with the same ominous ' _the Goblins of Gringott's will settle the account with impunity'_. She was shocked at some of the names marking the contracts as well...famous witches and wizards, many in high positions of power...

Hermione suddenly realized she had been standing by the cabinets and reading for a long time. How many minutes had passed since she had come in? How long was the Gringott's tea break?

Trying not to panic, Hermione quickly put the papers back in their places, closed the cabinet, and rushed to the door. She poked her head out, saw the corridor was thankfully empty, and slipped out. She fretted for just a moment, trying to remember if everything was back exactly in its place when an eerie sound caught her unawares.

She felt a chill run through her and then settle deep into her bones. She couldn't place the foreign noise at first and then wondered if she had heard it at all. Then it happened again, a low, mournful siren that reverberated around the corridor. Somehow she suddenly knew that all of London was hearing the same sad clarion call.

Hermione then heard the dry cough and the sudden booming voice of another Ministry official, probably standing in the lobby of the bank, with their voice magnified with a _Sonorus_ charm.

“Attention please, the Ministry of Magic has a very grave announcement. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, is dead.”

***

The owl had arrived within the hour at Hogwarts school bearing the unexpected and grave news of the Minister's passing. Classes were suspended for the rest of the day and all of the professors were gathered into the Headmistress' office for an emergency meeting.

“We must ensure to not. Cause. Panic.”

Snape's hackles were already rising with the fussy way she had to enunciate every word. His glittering black eyes swept across the faces of the other staff members. All were shocked, though some were less moved than others. Potter didn't seem as perturbed as the rest, though respectfully solemn. Cornelius had been rather a thorn in his side when he was younger... and of course, Longbottom looked as if he were going to be sick.

“I think it best if all of the Heads of Houses retire to their respective common rooms and discuss this _terrible_ event with their students...see to their anxieties. I suspect many parents will want to bring their children home for the weekend, and because this is a _unique_ occasion, it will be allowed so long as they are back in time for class on Monday.”

_How...generous_. Snape's nostrils were already flaring with suspicion and dislike.

“You may all go. Except for you, Professor Snape, I would like a word.”

The other professors were eager to leave, sweeping silently out of Umbridge's office as quickly as possible without being too apparent about their dislike. Potter shot Snape another suspicious glance, but Snape didn't deign to glance at him. Potter had been looking at him with suspicion since he was a chubby, immature, rude little eleven-year old boy. There was no sting in his contempt.

Once all of the other professors had left and the grinding of the stone staircase could be heard, Snape drummed his fingers impatiently on the surface of Umbridge's desk. “A word?”

Umbridge looked up at him with watery, glittering eyes and an unpleasant smile. “Why yes, Severus, I have need of your assistance. If you would follow me.”

She led him to one of the many secret exits in the Headmistress' office (he had used one or two of them himself in the past with Albus always fretting by the threshold), and they disappeared down a dark tunnel. Snape had to fight back the urge to trip her several times as they navigated by wandlight, but knew it would do nothing but satisfy his pride. He struggled to find how that was not a good enough reason though.

Finally they came to the other end and emerged in an abandoned part of corridor on the third floor. Snape arched an eyebrow as Umbridge twirled her wand in the air and tapped a heavy wooden door. She had just lifted several protective wards, Snape could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen from the _amount_ of magic.

He followed her into the gloomy, dim room with another sarcastic prod on his lips when he noticed what was standing in the center and his voice died in his throat.

_Oh, Lily_...

There she was, as always, as she had been the three times he had been brave or desperate enough to look. He remembered sweeping into the Potions dungeons and being quite unable to stomach the sight of Potter on those occasions. Beautiful, pale, with flaming hair and those bottomless green eyes...smiling at him. Just smiling. The vision wasn't anything dramatic, but heartbreaking in its simplicity.

It was just Lily Potter...back when she was Lily Evans...back when they were still best friends.

Umbridge must have noticed something in the split second an unguarded expression was on his face as he heard her ' _hem hem_ ' and a cruel smirk on her lips.

“Enjoying the visions of your success, Professor Snape? Perhaps a harem of beautiful witches all vying for your attention...the approval of your father perhaps?”

With a single weighty blink, the usual boredom and disdain were settled comfortably on his face. His voice dripped with acidic contempt. “Oh nothing so melodramatic...just my face on the cover of Witch Weekly.”

Umbridge 'harrumphed!' and then turned her eyes greedily to the Mirror. She was also lost for a moment, in whatever nightmarish hell she called her heart's desire.

“Severus...” the voice was faint, but Snape's head immediately snapped towards its direction. He hadn't noticed the portrait frame in the poor lighting of the room at first, only the edge poking into view from behind the Mirror, but he could recognize that voice anywhere. He immediately strode over.

“Albus, what in Merlin's beard are you doing here?”

“He is assisting me, Professor Snape. As will you.”

Snape arched an eyebrow at her, his nostrils threatening to flare open even wider with barely concealed anger. “Oh I'm _sure_ -”

“The Minister is dead. I will be replacing him.”

The lack of attempted girlishness and the calm, matter-of-fact tone of her voice silenced Snape more quickly and effectively than any threat. He glanced nervously at Albus' portrait.

Umbridge was ignoring the both of them, standing in front of the mirror with her hands clasped behind her back. “The Minister was poisoned with a very rare substance...a very difficult potion that requires several ingredients which are costly and extremely difficult to procure. There are only two wizards in England with the kind of stores that could conceivably accommodate such a concoction. The other is Cornelius' godson himself...surely you've heard of him, Severus? He is quite a talented Potions Master. I believe he's a regular contributor to St. Mungo's annual charity event.”

Snape felt his insides go slick with ice and then begin to twist like a pit of vipers, writhing and squeezing with an uncomfortable intensity.

“The other is a former Death Eater, a follower of He Who Must Not Be Named with the foulest of marks branded on his skin.”

For the first in a very long time, Snape felt his throat go dry with fear. “I was acquitted...I was a double agent...”

Umbridge finally turned her head in his direction, her glance mild and polite. “I'm afraid your most fervent advocate passed away several years ago. It would be your word alone against a grieving man who so very vocally loved his godfather.”

“You...you asked for those ingredients...”

Umbridge tilted her head to the side and clucked her tongue disappointingly. “Professor, I think we have something in common. We both know sacrifices must be made For The Greater Good. Sometimes one must dirty their hands, knowing it will benefit all wizarding kind. I will bring the magical community back to its pure, unadulterated glory where we once held the responsibility and care for all other creatures and unfortunate souls below us. It is a _duty_.”

She strode over to him, a sweet, sympathetic look on her face. She patted his hand with her stubby, ringed fingers and he was too shocked to recoil from the sudden clammy contact. “Now, I need you to take on some extra-curricular work outside of your role as a Professor. I think you are very intelligent...very cunning at least. I am sure we understand each other.”

“Perfectly.” Snape fought down a wave of bile rising in the back of his throat.

“You may go.” She smiled sweetly at him, though her eyes were as cold and calculating as he had ever seen. Swallowing his revulsion, Snape forced himself to snap back to reality, and swept quickly out of the room. He had never felt so numb.

Umbridge made her way back to the Mirror and stood before it, allowing herself a satisfied grin. “I see a _perfect_ England. A _perfect_ world.”

“I implore you, Dolores...” Albus tried, even though he knew it was hopeless.”

“Now I see...we must reinforce the fact that magic is a privilege. A _born_ privilege for the pure. I must undo all of the compromises and submissions Cornelius and previous Ministers before him. I must give England a clean slate.”

Umbridge squinted, the visions in the Mirror shifting before her. “...I see who is standing in my way...”

***

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm sorry that Hedwig is bringing you such dark words today._

_Dad has told me that the Ministry has gone topsy turvy. ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? Dad has been working around these scumbags and schemers for long enough to know when something big is about to happen. He reckons Umbridge is making a play for power, though she hasn't come out right and said it yet. But the Wizemgamot has passed more extreme decrees for her Purity of Magic nonsense and it's beginning internally. He says it wouldn't have gone through except that Amelia Bones didn't come into work for a week. He says people are beginning to whisper that she won't ever be coming back._

_Everyone above a janitor who has halfblood relations or marriages have been fired, even though they're pureblood themselves. EVEN if they had special dispensation from Fudge. The Wizengamot has decreed those special cases all moot now that he's gone. I'm sure you must know already, but I just want to make sure you know to GET OUT._

_Tonks has already left London with Teddy to join up with Remus and her dad. They aren't saying where, but I think they've used the Fidelius charm. If they're using Fidelius then she must be very afraid. I don't want you losing your head over this and I think I sound alarmist, but I know you have more sense than all of my brothers and Harry put together, so you will know what to do._

_I don't know if you've got an out plan yet, but I've already sent an owl to Bill. He and Phlegm are coming up this weekend to Hogwarts to 'visit' Harry. They can take you to Seashell cottage, and from there to France. You can stay with Phlegm's parents, they've already said yes. And I know you speak French._

_Get Neville to come by train with you to Hogwarts when they arrive. Harry will have figured out how to get you away with them by then. In the meanwhile, be safe and don't go back to your flat. Ask Ron and George, the shop flat is filthy, but it will only be for a few nights._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

It was the fifth time Hermione had read the letter since Hedwig had found her in a London coffee shop. She had already packed all of her essentials into her expansive bag, bullied Crookshanks into his carrier crate and locked up her flat. It was the first thing she had done after leaving Gringott's. She was staying in a modest hotel on the fringes of Muggle London. She knew Umbridge and all of her other pureblood cronies wouldn't know the first thing about tracking her in the Muggle world.

Hermione hadn't been sure what her plan was, only that she had to stay low for now. Bless the Weasleys...they had immediately thought of her first. She never felt more grateful to be considered part of their family. It was a Wednesday, only a few more days and she would be able to leave.

Hermione let Crookshanks out of his carrier and he hopped onto the hotel bed, his hair standing on end and puffing out irritably. She hugged him to her fiercely, staring forlornly out the window to the streets below.

“I guess I'll have to send you to mum and dad's for now...maybe for a long time...”


	5. Chapter 5

Severus retched into the basin and just when he thought he couldn't possibly bring up anything more, his stomach clenched into a vice again and he brought up bile and water.

Shivering, his shirt sticking to him with cold sweat, he let himself collapse to the floor, feeling boneless. He clenched and unclenched his left hand, watching the dark mark on his arm twist with the flexing muscles in his forearm. For the hundredth time he contemplated carving it out of his skin with a knife.

“Who...” He couldn't even finish the question, but he and Albus had known each other long enough that it didn't matter.

“Don't do this to yourself, Severus.”

Snape clenched his teeth together and hissed, “ _Who?_ ”

“Amelia Bones most likely.”

The only consolation was that the poison he had made was a gentle one. No vicious rupturing of the bowels, no bleeding through the eyes, nothing cruel or violent. Just a deep, peaceful sleep, perhaps a slight tingling in the extremities, and then blackness.

It was a poor consolation in that it really wasn't one. He had done senseless, needless, wasteful murder. All just to save his own pathetic skin. He should have let them take him to Azkaban to rot. 

He had never felt so helpless or so much like a pawn before in his life. And he had survived not only the Dark Lord, but Albus Dumbledore as well.

***

“It's weird talking to you like this. I don't even know for sure where you are.”

Hermione answered back in a low whisper. “I guess Ron, Harry and I just got used to it after awhile. We used Harry's cloak enough times and got into all sorts of trouble.”

Neville couldn't help but grin slightly, despite how nervous they both were. “I remember winning us the House Cup for one of those troubles.”

Hermione wanted to squeeze his arm with affection, but was afraid she'd only startle him and make him jump. She settled for saying with warmth, “Our proudest Gryff moment.”

“How do they look, Neville?” Professor Sprout was waving vigorously from over by the greenhouses, 'halloo-ing' and calling out cheerfully. Nevile was carrying a rather large crate of mandrake sproutlings, the pretense for why he needed to use the Hogwarts Express. They were notoriously difficult to transport, couldn't be shipped, and usually did not survive Apparition.

“Positively vicious, Professor!” He called back.

He had met her at King's Cross Station and passed her the bundle that was Harry's invisibility cloak. Excusing herself to go to the loo so she could put it on, she had spooked Neville on the way out by hissing 'let's go!' in his ear. He had nearly spilt the crate of mandrakes.

Neville deposited the mandrakes safely into Professor Sprout's care and then declared he had to go back to his rooms to change before the next class. There was a generous amount of dirt and soil smeared on his hands and clothes. Hermione walked briskly beside him, focusing on not bumping into anyone or letting the edge of the cloak lift up too high.

She felt a prickle on the back of her neck and looked back behind her. MacNair was outside Hagrid's hut, seated on a tree stump and sharpening his axe. Hermione was hypnotized by the repetitive, smooth motions of the whetstone for a moment, and by the ugliness of the blade. It was dark and nicked all along the blade edge, though still gleaming with a wicked sharpness.

She suddenly had the feeling that MacNair could see her. He was staring straight ahead in the direction she was in, not needing to look down at his axe blade. Hermione felt more prickles tickle up and down her spine and forced herself to look away, put one foot in front of the other, and followed Neville into the castle.

***

“Harry, you shouldn't be in here!” Hermione tried to sound scolding, but she was already weeping and flung her arms around his neck. He hugged her fiercely back and then insisted she take a seat again. Neville wandered in, toweling his hair furiously for any last remnants of dirt.

“I'm on corridor patrol, they won't miss me for a few minutes.” He looked earnestly at her. “Are you going to be all right?”

She let out a shaky breath. “As much as the situation permits.”

Neville clasped a hand to her shoulder and gave her a gentle nudge. “You're the most brilliant witch I know. You'll do just fine. We'll find a way to make everyone come to their senses.”

“And then we'll dance on Umbridge's grave,” Harry said solemnly. They broke into much needed laughter.

“Are they looking for me?” Hermione asked nervously. She hadn't had a chance to pick up a copy of the _Prophet_ or even _The Quibbler_.

“Well...” Harry started, tugging at his forelock, “...yes. They haven't said your name outright in the papers, but within the Ministry they are encouraging members to 'inform' on personnel who've escaped trial.”

“ _Trial_. As if that woman has any sense of legality!” Hermione blushed furiously, rubbing at her cheeks with anger.

Harry squeezed her hand. “One night. You just have to wait one night.”

***

“Miss Granger...” Umbridge snorted revoltingly, her jowly face rigid with distaste. “...the _beloved_ mongrel.”

“I hope you are not considering your previous methods of interpreting the Mirror, Dolores. Miss Granger is very intelligent and creative. She could make for an unexpected ally...”

Umbridge turned on her heel, her face flushed to an ugly purple shade. “Do you take me for a fool, Dumbledore? I know that for all of your _wisdom_ in these matters that you have your own agenda. Granger is a threat. She's been allowed to believe she's special...but I think we've all highly overestimated her. Regardless, the little wench will only get in my way and prove a nuisance.”

Umbridge turned back to the Mirror of Erised, fuming. Albus sighed heavily by his spot on the wall, knowing it was best to say nothing and be inconspicuous when she was in these black moods. After Amelia Bones the Mirror had shifted in its visions, showing her reflections of Andromeda Black, the Weasley family, Spencer Prewett, a few students from her Hogwarts years, and for some reason Ludo Bagman.

For the past three days the Mirror had shown her nothing but Hermione Granger and it twisted like a knife in Albus' mind. He had been quite fond of her, she had held such promise as a young girl and had not disappointed him in the slightest as she matured fully into her powers.

He could not let Umbridge harm her in any way.

“The Mirror is showing me something else. It's Granger...but there is a ball of light pulsing in front of her. Now the light is moving across the sky...it's racing somewhere...”

Umbridge suddenly fell hushed. “I see Hogwarts.” Her little, squinted eyes suddenly began to shine with excitement and she hissed, “Dumbledore, what does this mean?”

If Albus were still alive or had a body, he would have felt his heart drop to his stomach. “It could mean all sorts of things, Dolores-”

“ _Shut up!_ Shut up, you bloody fool.” Umbridge's face broke into a beatific smile, all the more horrible for its sincerity. “She's here...she's here in _Hogwarts_.”

Umbridge suddenly clapped her hands together and crowed with delight, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a small child whose been given an unexpected present or won at a game. It was hideous to watch.

“She's _here_ , she's right in my grasp. They will look upon this day and say it was the day England truly began to heal again.”

Albus began to grow furious, the anger pushing past his repulsion and fear of the woman. “Are you going to bully Severus into dirtying his hands for you again? Are you cruel enough to force him to aid you in murdering one of his former students?”

Umbridge giggled, hiding her snorting mouth behind a hand. “You silly old man, of course not. Poison would be a waste of time in such a situation where discretion is secondary. I'll be setting MacNair to this task.”

***

Hermione heard a tapping noise that roused her from her sleep. Her dreams had been fragmented all throughout the night and sleep only coming in fits and starts.

At first she was unsure if the tapping was a remnant from her dream, but as her eyes slowly opened she realized it was coming from the window. Startled, Hermione reached for the table where she had left her wand. The feel of polished wood in her fingers immediately put her at ease. It was probably only a branch hitting the window to Neville's rooms.

_But these rooms are on the ground floor with only hedges surrounding it..._

Forcing herself to stay calm, Hermione reached for the invisibility cloak and yanked it over her head. Only then did she rise and make her way slowly to the window, her breath catching in her throat with dread of what she might see.

She saw only darkness and the moon hanging fat and round in the sky. Her eyes roamed the sight of the Hogwarts grounds for the source of the disturbance when she suddenly heard the door behind her swing open.

_MacNair!_

He slammed the door behind him, his wand out and a deadly look of purpose on his face. Neville came stumbling out of his bedroom and quick as a snake, MacNair lunged across the room and had his wandtip to Neville's throat.

“Goodnight, Longbottom. _Stupefy!_ ”

Neville crumpled to the ground in a heap before he had a chance to react. Hermione covered her hand with her mouth, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. As she was weighing the risk of breaking her silence and what hex to use, MacNair suddenly swung his eyes and wand in her direction.

“Don't even think about it, girl. _Expelliarmus_.”

Her wand suddenly flew from her hand, dislodging the cloak, and soared into MacNair's grasp. He tucked it into the band of his trousers.

“H-How did you...”

He sneered. “Know where you were? Because I've got a pair of eyes in my head. Even with that bloody cloak on you cast a shadow. There's a full moon tonight. Plenty of light.”

He looked at her contemptuously, covering the short ground between them and grasping her roughly by the arm. “Besides, I can smell your shampoo and hear you breathing.”

He yanked the cloak back over her head and pressed his wand to her back. With a prod he shoved her forward and marched her out of the room, kicking the door closed behind them.

So he was a hunter as well as an executioner. Hermione inwardly berated herself for underestimating him. Most wizards relied so much on their magic that they neglected their other senses...but it seemed MacNair had a more savage set of skills.

“Thinking of screaming? I'd love it if you did,” He hissed into her ear as they made their way down the gloomy corridors. She could smell his breath, stale with old tobacco and the sickly stench of cheap scotch.

She wanted to ask: _where are you taking me?_ He prodded her out of a side entrance of the castle and the sweet chill of the night air rushed into her lungs. She felt her eyes sting, but she was too disappointed, angry and afraid to cry.

They made their way to Hagrid's hut where MacNair's large axe was resting by the pile of firewood. Hermione stiffened and immediately wanted to run, but MacNair seemed to be able to sense her feelings as well as he once again grabbed her arm in a tight grip. He shoved her along, picked up the axe easily in one hand and then dragged her to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Why didn't you just kill me back inside the school?” She hissed angrily, both of them too far away now from the castle for silence to matter.

MacNair said nothing, tugging more forcefully on her arm. Hermione stumbled several times as they plunged deeper into the forest with only moonlight to guide them. Each time she almost fell he heartlessly kept his brutal pace, seemingly content to drag her forcefully behind him if need be.

After about a quarter of an hour they finally came upon a clearing and MacNair pushed her to the ground. Hermione yanked the cloak from her and backed up against a tree. She tried to tell herself that if this was her end she would not be afraid.

MacNair hefted the axe in his hand, regarding her coldly. Hermione stared back furiously. If he was going to kill her, he would have to look right at her the whole time.

But MacNair just stood there, his thumb running up and down the edge of the axe, his expression unreadable. Finally, Hermione couldn't stand it any longer.

“Don't tell me you've grown a conscience, MacNair. Just do it!”

His eyes narrowed into a hate-filled glare then, but he lowered to a squat, resting his arm on the flat head of his axe. “Umbridge wants you dead, girl.”

“I know.”

“She must have wanted a proper job done of it too if she asked me. I don't like mucking around with magic when there are neater, surer ways.” He smirked a little. “Well, perhaps not neater.”

Hermione spat in his direction. She was hoping to hit him in the face, but it splattered on his boots instead. “You're sick.”

MacNair suddenly seized her hand, the axe blade swinging up. Hermione quailed inside, screaming at herself _you fool, why did you provoke him?_

She felt a searing stab of pain in her palm and cried out. Hermione thought it was all going to end now, the axe is going to swing up and down again and again, but as she lay on the ground, trembling, she realized she wasn't feeling any more stabs. Cradling her hand to her chest, Hermione looked up at MacNair and saw a curious look of distaste on his face.

Her blood shone black and wet on the blade of his axe. He rose to his feet and spat to the side. Hermione looked at her hand and saw that the cut across her palm was a straight line. It wasn't shallow...but it would also staunch soon and heal cleanly.

MacNair pulled her wand from the band of his trousers and snapped it in half. Hermione felt that wound too and much more deeply than the throbbing pain in her hand. Her heart ached for the wand that had been hers, that had told the world she was a witch...

“There now, girl. You're dead. Umbridge will see the blood and keep the wand pieces if she wants.”

Hermione finally felt the tears stream down her face, unwanted. “Why?”

A dark look passed across MacNair's face and for a moment he looked afraid. He dug something out of his pocket and dropped it by her feet. “Tell the goblins the debt is paid.”

_The...goblins?_

MacNair was already walking away from her, carefully picking his way out of the thick forest. Hermione struggled to her feet, a thousand questions racing around her mind, but he was gone before she could ask any. She doubted he would have answered anyway.

The goblins...the Gringott's goblins?

_...accounts will be settled with impunity..._

Hermione searched the forest floor for the object MacNair had tossed to her. She found it by one of the tree roots and held it up in the moonlight to see it better. It looked like a talisman, round, heavy, made of what she thought was iron, with a rune carved in the center.

_Whatever could this be?_

Hermione slipped it into her pocket. She then struggled out of the top of her robes and slipped off her undershirt. With her teeth she managed to rip off a strip and bound her hand before squirming back into her clothes again. She gathered up Harry's invisibility cloak, folded it down to as small a bundle as she could, and stuffed it into the inner folds of her robes.

What could she do now? Where could she go? She wouldn't be able to go back to Hogwarts with a homicidal Umbridge stalking around...although she really did want to let Harry and Neville know she was all right. She might be able to find her way to Hogsmeade, but she wouldn't be able to Apparate without her wand.

It was cold, Hermione hugged her arms to herself. Without her wand she wouldn't be able to defend herself against any creatures in the Forbidden Forest. She hoped the smell of her blood wasn't going to carry on the night air.

The talisman felt heavy in her pocket. Hermione pulled it out again to have a better look at the rune in the center and see if she recognized it.

Indeed it was a goblin rune, one she had come across when she was researching her aura charms. Goblins...what did this all have to do with goblins.

“Too bad I can't just wish myself to Gringott's.”

“Indeed you cannot, Miss Granger.”

Hermione screamed and almost fell over backwards. She stumbled into the tree instead, banging her elbow so hard her entire arm went numb. Her heart hammering in her chest, she whipped her head around to see where the voice had come from and then looked down to see Griphook, in his officious looking suit, staring up at her.

“I, however, can escort you there.” He held out his little arm and offered it to her. Stunned and wondering if she were still dreaming, Hermione gingerly placed her hand on his arm and Griphook snapped his fingers in the air.


	6. Chapter 6

“Professor Snape, can I have a word?”

Snape felt his shoulders hunch together and his stomach twist unpleasantly. It was only Potter walking towards him now, instead of Umbridge, but he had grown to hate those words.

Potter looked angry. Well, Potter usually looked irritably at him, but right now he looked righteously angry. _What in Merlin do you think I've done now, boy?_

When Potter reached him, he edged towards the wall of the corridor and lowered his voice. “What's she done with Hermione?”

Snape was genuinely flummoxed. “I beg your pardon, Potter?”

That just made him angrier. He flushed a bright red. “You're going to see Umbridge right now aren't you? That's been happening a lot. So what has she done with _Hermione?”_

Granger? Why was the boy placing more of this madwoman's antics on his doorstep. Snape huffed irritably. “I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, Potter.”

Potter's face darkened and he took a step back. “I thought you were decent, you know. I hope you sleep well at night.”

_I don't_. Potter was already storming away, his steps heavy and his hands balled into fists.

_Granger? The know-it-all?_ Snape forced himself to continue down the corridor, his stomach twisting again. For once he knew what Umbridge's summons were about...though the knowledge did nothing to lessen his dread.

***

“More tea, Miss Granger?”

“No, thank you.” Hermione took another polite sip from her cup, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. Griphook's office was a little larger than the others in Gringott's, though similarly crowded with filing cabinets. He also seemed rather fond of raspberry jam tarts as the little tea tray was overflowing with them.

He slurped noisily from his cup, the delicate china seeming quite ridiculously flowery and delicate in his knobbled, clawed hand, before setting it down. He then trained a calculating, but amused eye on her.

“We have taken quite an interest in you, Miss Granger. You are a rather unusual witch. Trying to start an organization for house elf rights as a student in Hogwarts...Spew...”

“ _S.P.E.W._ ” she said automatically, before realizing she had spoken out of turn and quickly glancing back down into her cup again.

“Yes...and managing to break one of our wards here in Gringott's...a very unusual witch indeed.”

Hermione nearly choked on her jam tart. “You knew?”

Griphook looked sharply at her, folding his hands on top of his desk. “Of course we knew, Miss Granger. And such interesting things you must have found in that office as well...”

Hermione gulped. She had jumped from one fire into another.

“I will be frank with you, Miss Granger, that intrusion cannot be overlooked so easily. However...we do have a larger concern we wish to settle at the present moment. Cornelius Fudge, the late Minister of Magic had an open account with us that has gone unresolved. His death presents us with a problem.”

“But surely if he's dead the matter's over?”

The look on Griphook's face spoke to the fervent opposite. “Death is only a complication. We still have an open debt which has not been repaid. The Headmistress of Hogwarts, Dolores Umbridge, has prevented the completion of this transaction. This situation must be rectified.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Hermione asked.

“To help us settle this account.”

Hermione suddenly felt a chill go up her spine and quickly said, “I'm not signing any contract with you.”

Griphook chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Of course not, you're far too wise for that. But you _will_ help us. Our terms are mutually beneficial. Dolores Umbridge has complicated our resolution of Cornelius Fudge's account. She also has something in her possession which was stolen from us. You help us retrieve this object and we will remove her. You will no longer have her threatening you. And we will overlook your breaking and entering into our private office.”

Hermione blinked in confusion. “Stolen from you?”

A sharp, predatory look hardened onto Griphook's face. He was a funny creature who gave her the impression of always attempting a cartoonish civility, but never being able to fully hide his savage nature. It was frightening to see what he was like without the care to hide it.

“The Mirror of Erised is a goblin-forged, enchanted mirror. It was the prized masterpiece of Saggorath the Smith and has been a treasured keepsake of goblins for seven centuries. It was loaned to Albus Dumbledore and should have been returned to us upon his death. But _she_ has kept it, has stolen it. And we cannot enter Hogwarts castle, nor do we have the desire to storm the castle by force. You must bring it back.”

“You said you were going to remove her...what do you mean?”

Griphook tugged lightly on one of the white, wispy tufts of hair growing out from one of his pointed ears. He gave her a pointed look. “By remove her we mean exactly that.”

Hermione shuddered inside again, but pressed on desperately. “Why don't you do it now? The Mirror of Erised will be more easily retrieved without her in the way-”

Griphook waved a hand dismissively in the air. “Because it is a risk we do not need to take. We will have the Mirror back first, _then_ we will remove Dolores Umbridge. That is the nature of a returned investment.”

Hermione tried a different tack. “She's dangerous to the gobins too. That woman is mad; obsessed with her hatred for anyone who isn't a witch or wizard. If she becomes the next Minister of Magic she'll be able to continue her campaign to enslave or exterminate magical creatures.”

Griphook was unmoved. “Regimes come and go. Goblins do not concern themselves with the petty squabbles of the wizards. Worse rulers than Umbridge have held power, and we are still here. Our only interest is in retrieving Saggorath's mirror and settling our accounts.”

Hermione fell silent, cradling her cup of tea on her lap. It was warming her hands and was the only comforting thing in Griphook's office, though he had healed the cut on her hand so it didn't hurt anymore. She saw no way out of this, and felt as if she had made a deal with the devil without even asking for it.

“Why was Fudge in debt to you? If you don't mind me asking.”

Griphook sighed gustily, shaking his head with a patronizing air. “What most wizards and witches come to us for, and the most silly thing of all. Gold. He borrowed a large sum of gold in order to fund his campaign for Minister.”

_Of course...it sounds like him. Silly man._

“How am I supposed to get the Mirror back? I don't have my wand anymore, everyone thinks I'm dead so I can't exactly reappear again-”

Griphook gestured to her pocket and she brought forth the talisman. He held it up in front of her. “Wizards and witches will always be inferior to goblin magic with this foolish dependence on wands. This is an object of magic we had specially crafted for you to compensate for your deficiencies, Miss Granger. It must be returned to us upon the completion of your task.”

Hermione nodded fervently. She'd fling it back at them now if she could.

“It does not operate like a wand. However, you will find its aid useful. It is a simple matter of enforcing your will, and if the talisman can perform the task it will and the rune will glow. The simpler the thought, the better. Might I also suggest returning to the Forbidden Forest. It is a large place where one cannot be easily found.”

Griphook snapped his fingers and a rucksack appeared on the floor. “We have already seen to your supplies. You'll find some materials that will make your stay more comfortable.”

Hermione looked at the bulging sack and back to Griphook's unpleasant smile. It was as if they had planned out the whole thing months in advance. She felt like a chess piece being moved around a board. Merlin knew, they probably somehow had made sure MacNair had gotten to her too.

Hermione suddenly paused in thought. “Can I ask how MacNair was in your debt?”

Griphook smiled. “You may not.”

“Oh.” Hermione felt chastised and embarrassed. Griphook handed the talisman back to her and got to his feet. She rose from her chair as well and hefted the rucksack over her shoulder.

Griphook gave her a little bow. “Though I can say it was not for gold. Good luck, Miss Granger. We anticipate your success.”

***

Hermione yawned and stretched her arms, working out a crick in her back. She picked up a stone and threw it as far ahead of her as she could. It flew for about three meters and then stopped in mid-air, falling to the ground. That must be the boundary of the ward the talisman had set to keep out any unwanted magical or non-magical beasts.

The rucksack the goblins had packed for her had contained a tent which she set up first thing. There were some blankets, a heavy cloak for warmth, parchment, quill and inkpot. There was a canteen of water and some packed sandwiches but that was it for food.

She had held the talisman in her head and thought: _food! Food!_ desperately over and over, even once in Gobbledegook, but the talisman remained depressingly dull.

What was she going to do? Well...it seemed she could apparate with the talisman, so perhaps she could put on the invisibility cloak and try to steal some food from Hogsmeade. She wanted to leave that as a last resort, though.

What Hermione really wanted was to let Harry and Neville know she was all right, and perhaps get their help in this mad quest. But how to speak to them?

_Talk to Harry._ Nothing. _Talk to Harry Potter_. Nothing. _Harry. Harry Potter!_ The talisman remained blank.

Sighing, Hermione racked her brains and mentally spat out commands at the stone.

_Message. Signal. Signal!_ _Erm...Apparate Harry Potter. Merlin's beard...owl? Hedwig. Bring Hedwig. Accio Hedwig. Hedwig, Hedwig, Hedwig!_

The rune on the talisman began to glow and pulse. Hermione stood up immediately, wanting to do a dance of excitement. Nothing happened for minutes, though, and she thought perhaps the talisman hadn't known what to do about her request. Just as she was about to give up she heard a hoot and looked up to the sky. She saw a dot moving up above her, but knew it was Harry's owl.

Excited, Hermione dug into the rucksack and brought out the parchment and quill. She was just about finished her note when Hedwig flew down and landed beside her. Hermione wished she could squish Hedwig to her like she did with Crookshanks sometimes, but settled for petting her breast feathers and outrageously spoiling her with attention.

Hedwig hooted and clacked her beak together in enjoyment, then proudly stuck out her leg. Hermione tied the note to her leg, gave her one last feather scratch, and helped boost her into the air.

She still wasn't sure how she was supposed to get the Mirror of Erised out of Hogwarts...how she was going to get into Hogwarts...but now she would have her friends helping her.

***

“Oh, an England, a perfect England...yes, Mirror, show me what to do next...yes, I see Andromeda Black again, she is trouble isn't she... _where_ is she...”

Umbridge suddenly fell silent. Snape inwardly thought, _thank goodness_ , he was sick of hearing her feverish mumblings. Her shriek of anger, however, almost caused him to jump.

“ _Granger!_ Granger! Why am I seeing Granger again?”

Snape and Albus shared a worried look. Perhaps Umbridge had truly lost all of her senses now. She was hopping up and down in fury, looking even more like a fat toad.

“MacNair! Summon MacNair!”

Snape wasn't sure who she was ordering, but Filch hurried off any way. All to the better, Snape wasn't going to lift a finger more to help this woman unless she explicitly threatened him to.

She was still mumbling, Granger, Granger, the Mudblood, when Filch came back huffing and puffing. MacNair was gone. Hagrid's hut had been abandoned and there was no sign of the executioner. Umbridge looked like she had a vein that was going to pop out of her head. She stared at the Mirror incredulously and then rounded on Severus.

“ _Snape_. Make me another poison. Make it the most powerful, venomous one you know. I want her _screaming_ when she dies!”

Snape looked at her through hooded eyes, his voice dripping with contempt. “Murder becomes you, Dolores.”

Her eyes looked as if they were ready to pop out from her skull. “ _Now!_ ”

Snape sighed, looking outwardly uninterested, though inwardly he was perturbed. “Any good poison takes a long time to brew. In some cases a month. And you've used up all my last stores of basilisk venom.”

Umbridge seemed to realize she was behaving obscenely, and deflated slowly in angry little puffs. She smoothed the front of her pink cardigan, breath huffing through her nose. “Of course...of course. But begin preparations straight away. In the meantime I will have to attempt other methods. Go now.”

Snape sketched a mocking bow and heard Albus whisper to him, “Please, Severus, do what you can.”

Snape glanced coolly at Albus and muttered under his breath, “If I do anything noble it isn't because of you” before taking his leave.

***

_Hermione,_

_You cannot imagine how relieved I am to hear from you. Neville is fine, he just had a small bump on his head but we've all had worse. I'll try to find out what I can about the Mirror. In the meanwhile I'm sending some food with Hedwig. I'll send a different owl next time though, she's a little conspicuous._

_Stay warm and stay safe._

_Love,_

_Harry_

Harry gave the letter to Hedwig, which she clamped in her beak. He held out the paper bag full of tea biscuits, scones, a sausage, and other small things he filched from the kitchens. He wished he could have sent more, but there was only so much Hedwig could carry. She grasped the paper bag in her talons and then flew out the window.

Neville had been so relieved to hear Hermione was all right that he wept a little. He had been eaten up by guilt that he hadn't been able to protect her that night and had taken the blame for her 'death'.

Harry made sure Hedwig was well off into the air without having any troubles flying before leaving his quarters and heading off to his afternoon class.

Though he kept up the pretense of sadness and gloom so as not to tip off Umbridge, he walked with a lighter heart. On his way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom he saw Snape sweeping down the hallways with his usual sour look. Harry kept his gaze carefully away from Snape's, remembering the little confrontation they had before. Best they keep up the mutual pretense of never noticing the other.

However, Snape veered into his direction. They passed each other in a brief moment, but without looking at him Snape quickly muttered, “Granger's alive” before sweeping away.

Harry almost stopped right in the middle of the corridor, stunned.

Perhaps he could make an ally of Snape after all.

***

“I want her _found_. Do you hear me? I want her found!”

Snape's upper lip curled in disgust. He was beyond the point of caring to not cross Umbridge's temper. The woman had been yelling at him quite enough now, there was only so much one could take. “Well consult your bloody mirror then!”

Umbridge drew in a sharp intake of breath, drawing up to her full height, though it still did not account for much. “You're very impertinent, Snape. You're a filthy halfblood too, aren't you? I wouldn't suffer you if you weren't a dead man already-”

She suddenly stopped, something in the Mirror catching the corner of her eye. She turned to face it, her eyes hungrily watching the polished surface.

“...trees...darkness...night...a forest. The Forbidden Forest. But where? Where in the forest?”

Umbridge looked on for another moment before stepping back. She looked coldly to Snape, her burst of rage simmering away for the moment. “There you are, Snape, that narrows your field of search doesn't it? Find her.”


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione made sure the goblin talisman was clutched tightly in her hand before slinging the rucksack over her shoulder and setting out for the day. She found it was able to work as a compass and if her needs were basic enough, was even able to help her find things.

_Water._

She glanced down at the talisman and its glowing rune, adjusting her path when the light dimmed and noted she was straying. Soon she could hear a faint trickling sound and eagerly headed towards the direction of it.

The Forbidden Forest was actually quite beautiful in the daytime. It was still a little gloomy, but more light pierced through the treetops and she could hear birdsong.

Hermione found the little stream and knelt by the bank, splashing the icy cold water on her face. She dipped her canteen where the water ran over rocks and filled it before drinking a little. The water chilled her insides, but it tasted clean and good.

_North_.

The talisman glowed and Hermione trekked through the forest, enjoying the sights and the quiet hush of the forest floor. She decided today she would find a way to the castle through the forest rather than going across the grounds. She still wasn't sure what she was going to do about the Mirror...but sooner or later she knew she'd have to sneak back into the castle. Perhaps with a little more observation she'd be able to find out more about where the Mirror was hidden.

Moving through a thicket of tall trees Hermione suddenly saw a flash of silvery white and stopped. Whatever it was it had disappeared. Hermione clutched the talisman...she hadn't encountered any beasts in the forest so far, but she had heard some strange calls during the night.

She saw the flash of silver again, now a little further to her left. It was ghostly pale and she thought, shaped somewhat like a horse. A unicorn perhaps? Well, she had nothing to fear from such a creature if she meant it no harm.

Curious, Hermione crept forward towards the direction of the animal. She paused every now and again when her foot accidentally snapped a twig, not wanting to frighten it.

She saw something silver up ahead in a clearing, and quietly made her way through the thicket of trees.

It was a silver doe...ghostly pale and seeming to vanish in and out of the streaming rays of sunlight. Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she stayed by the trees, not wanting to scare it off. It was beautiful in its strange, ethereal way.

The silver doe's head swung over to look at her and she was struck by the strange blank whiteness of its eyes. Before she could take a step further, it suddenly bounded away, seeming to melt right into the trees.

***

“This was where we found Fluffy, Hagrid's mad three-headed dog.” Harry sighed wistfully, reminiscing of his escapades with Ron and Hermione in first year. Neville had been waylaid by the full body-bind jinx and hadn't seen the different trials the professors had set to protect the Mirror of Erised.

“It's empty,” Neville said, the light from the tip of his wand swinging through the dusty room. They had dropped down the trap door and were walking around what was now an abandoned, hollow space.

Harry sighed with frustration. “I was so sure it would be here... but I suppose it wouldn't make sense to hide the Mirror in the same place twice.”

Neville gave Harry a boost up to the entrance of the trap door. “We could try the Room of Requirement again.”

“I don't think Umbridge knows how it works. Besides, we already checked the room where all things are hidden.”

Neville grunted as Harry pulled on his arms and his legs kicked in the air until they found the ledge of the trap door. He straightened up, dusting off his trouser legs.

“I wish Hermione were here,” he complained, “she would have been able to figure this out in no time. Or Dumbledore...he always seemed to know everything.”

The trap door shut with a loud 'bang' and Harry knelt down to lock it again. “That does worry me a little. His portrait's gone from the Headmaster's office. I hope she hasn't destroyed it. I thought about asking Snape, but I'm still not sure whether we can trust him.”

Neville shuddered a little. His experience with Snape as a student still left him a little nervous and scared at times. “Why don't we ask another painting? Maybe they know things amongst themselves.”

Harry stopped and stared at Neville for a moment, making the other man nervous. He then clapped his hand loudly to Neville's shoulder. “Neville, that's brilliant! I would have never thought of that! Come on, between the both of us we'll make Hermione proud of us.”

Harry set off excitedly down the third floor corridor with Neville following bashfully, but quietly pleased with himself, behind.

***

Hermione saw the silver doe twice more throughout the day. The first time it was only another silver flash, so it could have been something else, but the second time she had seen its lovely pale legs and face again so she knew it was no longer a coincidence.

The Forbidden Forest was much larger than she had expected, it seemed to have no end. She despaired a little, but once she found the edge of the clearing to Hogwarts grounds she calmed again. This would work to her advantage, she thought, that the forest was so deep and so easy to hide in. And with the talisman she would never get truly lost.

Finding the borders where through the tree lines she could see the peaks of the castle's towers, Hermione decided to make camp for the night. She had covered a lot of ground that day and had earned a good night's rest.

After setting up her tent, Hermione wandered with the talisman to find another stream. She found a small pond instead with still waters. Though it looked like fresh rainfall, she shook her canteen, decided she had enough water to drink for the night, and settled for washing her face instead.

When she looked up, droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes, she saw the silver doe watching her from the other side of the pond. Hermione stayed very still, and was rewarded with the silver doe paying her little mind and amusing itself by the water's edge. It was very beautiful...and somewhat translucent. Hermione realized it wasn't a real creature, not one of flesh and blood anyway.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone there?”

The doe swung its head to look up at her, one of its ears twitching. Hermione rose slowly to her feet.

“What are you? Who do you belong to? Do you understand me?” Though Hermione felt no danger from the doe's presence, she held the talisman in her hand just in case. The silver doe seemed to be some sort of enchantment, and if that were the case it meant someone could be nearby.

“What are you, pretty thing?” Hermione took a step closer towards the silver doe.

It bolted and sprang away.

***

Severus let out a deep, shaky breath when Granger finally left the clearing with water. He picked his way out of the forest, taking care to move as quietly as possible.

Once he had finally broken through the forest's edge and onto the Hogwarts grounds he saw that it was fully night. The sky was an inky black, and though there was some moonlight, he needed to conjure some light from his wand to find his way back. He thought carefully about how best to word his report to Umbridge, though he already knew he would not let that foul woman know that he had found Granger.

Using his Patronus charm had been Albus' idea, quickly whispered to him as Umbridge was otherwise occupied. Albus knew more about Patronus magic than most witches and wizards. They certainly contained more mysteries than the ability to repel Dementors or carry messages. Patronuses were inherently drawn to magic, being conjured from the very core and essence of a magical person, so Severus knew that though he had no idea where to start in the forest, his patronus would eventually find its way to her.

Her or a unicorn. Either way, it was better than navigating blind, and after three days of following closely behind his patronus with a camouflaging charm he had stumbled upon her.

_What are you doing back here, you idiot girl?_ Snape couldn't understand why Granger hadn't fled England when she had the chance. He had learned later that MacNair had chased her into the forest and 'killed' her there. Why hadn't she left afterwards? Could she not find her way into Hogsmeade.

After observing her for the day he reached the impression that she was not lost in the forest but was inside it for a purpose. He couldn't surmise as to what that purpose was...but for now he could only concern himself with evading Umbridge for as long as possible before she grew suspicious. Or desperate.

He had never felt more like strangling Albus for dying and leaving a mess behind.

***

“The Headmaster? Well, that doesn't sound jolly right! Never fear brave sirs, justice will out in the end! Chivalry and valiant souls will always-”

“Of course, Sir Cadogan, but please hurry.” Harry and Neville looked anxiously at the pompous, flamboyant knight as he wrestled with his armour and tired pony. Sir Cadogan blustered for a few moments more before finally managing to rouse his fat beast into moving and charged off out of his frame.

Harry sighed and rested his head in his hand. “I wish we could have found someone better to help us.”

“Yes,” said Neville, scuffing at the floor with the toe of his shoe, “but all the other portraits seemed scared that we were even asking them questions.”

Harry laughed. “We have to give Sir Cadogan that, he's no coward.”

They wandered down to the Great Hall for lunch and ate hastily with the students and other staff members. Mealtimes weren't the rowdy, fun occasions they used to be when Harry and Neville were students. Members of the Inquisitorial squad patrolled up and down the House tables making sure no one (who wasn't one of their friends) stepped a toe out of line. Or even chewed too loudly. The few staff members who weren't in Umbridge's pocket ate quickly and left, frustrated and sick that there wasn't anything they could do.

“Snape isn't here.” Harry noticed, scanning the staff table. “I wonder what he's up to.”

“Being a berk,” Neville sullenly mumbled into his soup.

They made sure to pass by Sir Cadogan's corridor on their way to their respective classes to see if the knight had returned, but the portrait frame was empty.

Harry checked back after supper on his patrol duty and was rewarded with the sight of the little knight sitting on the grass, huffing and puffing and wiping sweat from his brow.

“Did you have any luck, Sir Cadogan?”

“Brave Sir Potter! My, this has been a most frustrating task, but true knights never waver or fail in the sight of adversity!”

Harry did his best not to roll his eyes as Sir Cadogan rambled on about his various past exploits. Finally when he had enough he gently prompted, “Did you find out anything about the Headmaster?”

Sir Cadogan's visor swung down shut with a loud 'clang' and irritated, he finally took his helmet off. Wiping his brow, Harry saw that the little knight was actually nervous.

“I have indeed learned some of the Headmaster's disappearance, Harry Potter. It is a foul business indeed. Other portraits are frightened and speak little, but from what I have surmised he is still somewhere in the castle. He has not been seen in any of his other frames, they are all dark.”

“Do you know where in the castle?”

Sir Cadogan shook his head, pushing the mop of his damp hair away from his eyes. “No, Harry Potter. But if my trusty steed and I could not locate Headmaster Dumbledore he cannot be anywhere within reach of other portraits.”

Harry grew quiet. That didn't sound good at all.

Sir Cadogan looked up at him, the first time Harry had ever seen the bumbling, but brave little knight despondent. “Do you think Headmaster Dumbledore is all right, Harry Potter?”

Harry tried to smile for the knight, but spoke with a heavy heart. “I hope so, Sir Cadogan. I hope so.”

***

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope this owl finds you all right. He seems a little older, but he was hooting and excited for the job. He's also a little bigger, so I managed to pack some sandwiches with him too._

_We can't find Dumbledore's painting, but I have a feeling like he's connected to all of this. Neville and I are going to keep looking. Do you know of any secret places in the castle we should check?_

_I hope you are keeping warm and safe._

_Love,_

_Harry_

Sandwiches! Hermione eagerly opened the paper bag and found a fat ham sandwich wrapped in foil inside. It was a delicious change from the day old scones and biscuits she'd been eating so far and she tried to savour it for as long as she could. It was gone quickly though, washed down with some more cold stream water.

_A place in the castle without paintings..._

Hogwarts was a castle festooned with art and the likenesses of witches and wizards from eras past. The dungeons didn't have any portraits... then again, there were many hidden rooms in the castle Hermione was sure she didn't know about. Hogwarts was the sort of place you could live in for seven years and know only a small part of its secrets.

The better way to think was to wonder where _Umbridge_ would want to hide something. Hermione picked up a second sandwich, eating it more slowly this time, as she tried to think of what she knew of the woman.

Once she got through the regular round of: _awful, hideous, mad, psychopath_ and all else, she started to hit upon how obsessed the woman was with authority. Being made Headmistress had made her puff up with pride like an oversized toad. She would feel _entitled_ to all of the privileges that came with the office and exploit them fully.

The time for hiding was over. Hermione looked up at the sky and saw it was going to become dark soon. She patted the front of her robes to make sure the invisibility cloak was still there, and packed up her things. It was time to go into the castle.

***

“...I'm swamped with work. Snape wanted two feet on the properties of lunar herbs. _Two!_ ”

Hermione held in a breath and waited for the students to pass by her, clinging to the wall. She must have just arrived at the beginning of curfew and there were still a few students making their way to the common rooms.

She had snuck in through the side entrance that MacNair had chased her out of before. She had worried briefly that she might run into him again, but when she had passed by Hagrid's hut she saw that it was dark with a spider's web hanging on the door, unbroken.

_If only I had the Maurader's map_... Hermione mused as she crept through the school, clinging to the shadows and taking her time so as not to make a noise. That way she could know if anyone was coming close to her...

“Students out of bed! Students out of bed!”

Hermione froze and quickly ducked behind a statue as Filch ran past, shrieking. There was a bit of a commotion and then the flickering light of a lantern somewhere further down the hallway. She could hear footsteps and the murmur of voices growing closer.

_They're coming this way!_

“And I found _this_ all over the bathroom floor.”

“This is very serious indeed... banned materials being brought into school. Yes, let's go have a chat with the students in Ravenclaw common room, Mr. Filch.”

_Oh Merlin, it's her!_

Hermione did not think she breathed the entire agonizing time Filch and Umbridge walked down the corridor, horrible eager grins on their faces. Filch was practically jumping up and down with glee, and Umbridge had a copy of _The Quibbler_ clutched tightly in her fat fist.

Hermione's eyes were open wide as she trembled underneath the invisibility cloak. She had the paranoid thought that Umbridge would be able to see her...that she would suddenly stop and sniff her out...but the awful pair swept right past her without ceremony and left her in the dark.

Hermione let out a shaky breath as she heard their voices grow more and more distant. She gratefully slid down the wall to her knees, her legs feeling as if they had turned to jelly.

_She's going to the Ravenclaw common room. That's on the other end of the castle._

Hermione was suddenly seized by a mad thought and before she knew it she was hurrying down the corridors. The Headmaster's office was nearby, and Umbridge would be gone for at least half an hour.

_This is mad, you'll get caught!_

But her feet were still taking her there and she suddenly found herself in front of the gargoyles that led to the office. She stopped. How was she going to get through? She didn't want to take off the cloak... and she didn't know the password.

Desperate, Hermione knelt and whispered pleadingly into one of the gargoyle's ear. She didn't know if it would work, but she had come too far not to try.

“Please, it's Hermione Granger. You must remember me. I'm trying to do whatever I can to help the school, to help everyone. I need to get in.”

The gargoyles remained still and silent. Then, to her surprise, she heard the creak of the stone staircase descended and they jumped apart.

“Thank you,” she breathed, and stepped in.

She hadn't been inside the Headmaster, Headmistress' now, office since Umbridge had been instated. She found it was much the same except for the objects on the desk and the bizarre collection of kitten china plates on one wall. Hermione made her way over to the desk, sat down in Umbridge's chair, and tried the drawers.

They were all locked. Well, the woman _was_ paranoid.

She wouldn't be keeping Dumbledore's portrait here, however, and there certainly wasn't the room for the Mirror. Hermione got up and made a circuit of the office, trying to find any clues to help her.

Finding nothing, she went back to the side of the desk where there was an empty space on the wall. It made her feel sad and worried for where Dumbledore's portrait could have gone.

“A few feet to your left, girl.”

Hermione jumped, the cloak fluttering about her feet. She looked wildly around and saw that Phineas Nigellus was awake. He had his patent bored, aloof look on his face.

“Can I see you? No, but I know you are there. A few feet to your left. That's where our current Headmistress spends most of her time.” He looked down at his nails, buffing them on his shirt. “If that is what you are looking for, of course. It makes no matter to me. I'm finding it far more stimulating to spend time in my other frame.”

With that, he got up from his seat and walked away, leaving his portrait blank. Curious, Hermione moved to her left as he had said and looked at the wall. There was a space in between the portraits. She ran her fingers over the surface, trying to find any grooves or cracks. She saw a candlestick instead and reminded of the old Hammer horror films she watched with her parents as a little girl, she pulled on it.

She felt a rumbling and heard two panels sliding against each other. The wall fell back and slid away to reveal a tunnel.

_This is it!_

“She's coming back! She's coming back!”

Hermione's head snapped up as she heard the other portraits whispering urgently to each other. Her heart beating wildly, Hermione tried yanking the candlestick again but the opening wouldn't close. Without enough time, Hermione fled, running for the staircase.

***

“She was _here!_ A week you spend trying to find her and she _breaks into my office!_ ”

A china teacup shattered by the wall beside Snape's head, causing him to wince. He hadn't expected it, he had seen Umbridge furious before, but never to this degree. He wasn't sure if she had missed her target or not.

She stood, fuming, against her desk, her shoulders heaving up and down and her face covered in red splotches.

Snape tried to calm her down. “Are you certain it was indeed Miss Granger? It could have been a student-”

“The entrance to the tunnel is open!” Umbridge shrieked, pointing a stubby finger to the open portal. “Are you so much of an _idiot_ that you think a student could have broken into my office?”

Snape muttered, “Well apparently Granger managed it.”

By the way Umbridge's face turned a shade of puce, he knew she had heard that little comment. He thought she might throw something at him again, but instead she snorted and growled, turning her back to him and looking out her window.

“I set you the task of finding Granger. You failed. She has now broken into the school and violated my office. She is proving to be more of a threat than I first anticipated. Since you have proved yourself unreliable I will have to look elsewhere.”

A chill ran down Snape's back at the underlying threat in her voice. “What do you mean?”

She stayed by the window with her back to him, but he could see the hungry gleam in her eye reflected on the surface of the glass. “I will simply have to make a call to Azkaban. If Granger is still somewhere in the forest...the Dementors will find her.”

***

_Dear Harry,_

_I think I've found it! I was in the castle tonight, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, but I thought it would be safer if you didn't know. There is a secret entrance in Umbridge's office between the portraits. It opens to a tunnel. I don't know where they lead, but I think it might be where she is keeping the Mirror or Dumbledore._

_I am keeping well and safe. Don't do anything stupid! Don't go into the entrance yourself!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Please send more sandwiches!_

Hermione blew on the parchment to dry the ink, waving the small note in the air. She tucked it into the pocket of her robes to send in the morning with the next owl. She checked her wards one last time and then crawled into her tent. She laid her head down and closed her eyes. She wished she had something to read at nights, it was her favourite thing to do before she slept, but she listened to the sounds of the forest instead.

She could hear the hooting of owls, the swaying of branches and a few howls in the night. She had gotten used to the night orchestra of the forest by now, and had begun to find it soothing.

The hooting stopped and all was silent and peaceful. Hermione sighed, turning over onto her back.

_The owls have stopped hooting._

Hermione felt drowsy but slowly came to, her mind persisting that something was wrong. Wild owls were nocturnal, they came alive at night. She always went to sleep to their calls. If they had stopped making noise...that meant something was wrong.

Hermione slowly sat up and groped in the darkness for the talisman. She was hoping that she was only being paranoid and that nothing was wrong...the urge to just go back to sleep and forget about the whole thing was strong, but she crawled out of her tent anyway.

_I'll just have a look._

Hermione stood up, blinking and trying to see through the darkness. The talisman's rune was glowing, and she realized it was very cold. The forest was always cold at night, but it was as if the temperature had dropped several degrees and she could see her breath streaming out in silky plumes.

Hermione walked to the edge of her wards and tried to peer through the trees. She placed a hand on the trunk to brace herself and jerked her hand back in shock. There was frost on the tree!

Hermione suddenly felt a wave of dread hurtling towards her, like a massive tidal wave twenty feet high racing through the trees and about to crash into her like a physical force. She was frozen for a moment and then she broke into a run.

She heard a sigh, like a thousand breaths being exhaled from somewhere behind her, all full of hunger and sorrow. Gasping for breath, she threw her arms around a tree to stop her momentum and swung around to look back.

_I'm just being silly... I just got frightened of the dark..._

She saw the tree line, cloaked in shadows. Her chest heaved up and down and to her surprise she found tears on her face, already beginning to freeze. _Why is it so cold?_

The shadows moved. Hermione's eyes grew wide and she took a step back. All of a sudden the shadows clumped together and then began to surge forward, swirling through the trunks and separating as cloaked figures with outstretched arms.

_Dementors!_

Hermione stood frozen for a moment, her brain unable to comprehend why there were Dementors in the Forbidden Forest and if what she was seeing could be real. As they approached closer, she finally snapped back to the present moment and began to run again.

Tree branches whipped in her face, scratching her cheeks or ringing blows on her ears. She felt a painful stitch in her side and her legs felt like they were moving agonizingly slowly. Hermione could hear herself sobbing as she ran blindly through the forest, stumbling and ducking.

A root finally tripped her and sent her flying before she could catch herself. She fell to the forest floor with an almighty 'thump!', spraining her wrist and landing painfully on her hip. Hurt and scared, Hermione tried to stand up again, but felt like something invisible was crushing her into the ground.

She looked up and saw the Dementors racing towards her. She groped for the talisman inside her pocket and brought it forth as they began to swirl around her in a large circle.

_Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!_

They flew higher above her, then began to move fast and tighten the circle around her.

_Patronus! Patronus! Happy thoughts! Oh please save me..._

The Dementors moved in closer and closer, spindly arms starting to reach out to snag at the air just a few feet from her face. Hermione huddled together, clutching the talisman and crying in sharp, panicked bursts.

She suddenly heard an odd trumpeting noise like a furious scream and the thundering of hooves. The Dementors swayed in the air, their blank hooded heads moving from side to side to see where the disturbance was.

The silver doe suddenly burst from the treeline, head reared high and small tail raised upright like a flag. In the thick of night it seemed to glow with a white, ghostly light, more solid and luminescent than before. It stamped the ground then lowered its head, charging the Dementors.

The Dementors shrieked, the ugly and unearthly sound making all of Hermione's frizzy hair stand on end. The Dementors lingered at first, unwilling to give up their prize, but the silver doe charged through them causing them to shriek more and chased them away. It left brief trails of silvery wisps wherever it stepped, rearing its head several times in threat with its ears flat against its head.

Hermione saw the silvery white glow in the distance as the silver doe relentlessly pursued her attackers. Shivering, she felt the night air grow warmer again and panic slowly bleed away from her. Clutching her arms, she rose shakily to her feet and watched as the doe made its way back to her, picking its way daintily through the undergrowth.

It came right up to her, closer than it ever had before and she marveled at is white, misty features. She reached out a hand as if to pet it, but her hand passed right through its nose, though that left a warm tingling feeling in her fingers.

“Thank you...” she said quietly. The doe's ears twitched and it circled her protectively.

_Whose patronus are you? Who's been keeping watch on me in the forest?_

Those questions seemed so very important, but now exhausted from her ordeal Hermione couldn't make the effort to pursue them. She was just grateful to finally feel at peace and safe.

The doe circled around her again, trying to nudge her hand with its head though its form merely passed through her. She didn't mind, every time it passed through she felt the warm tingling again.

The doe's ears twitched and suddenly it shivered. She saw its ghostly light starting to pulse and it took a step back. The doe suddenly reared its head back as if in pain, and Hermione cried out. The pulsing quickened and grew brighter until Hermione was momentarily blinded. She heard the flapping of wings.

As her vision flooded back, Hermione saw a silvery white raven fluttering around her. It flapped its wings awkwardly a few times before it seemed to grow accustomed to flight, then flew in circles above her head and landed on her shoulder. It was odd, not being able to feel the weight of it, but the warmth rested on her shoulder and felt nice by her face.

_The Patronus just changed in front of me..._ Hermione knew it could happen, though rare, but this was the first she had heard of anyone seeing it happen before their eyes.

She twisted her head sideways to look at the raven with its stately beak and regal airs. She thought it looked rather pleased with itself...even arrogant, and she laughed out loud. The raven quorked and clacked its beak at her, as if chiding her laughter.

It stayed on her shoulder the entire trek back to her tent and stood guard outside her tent flap as she crawled in to sleep. When she woke the next morning it was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Severus had fallen onto his bed that night, exhausted and drained. He had run through the forest most of the night, following as closely behind his Patronus as he dared while it made its way to Granger. When he finally came upon her and saw the swirling vortex of Dementors he thought he was too late.

Summoning the energy and emotion to further charge his Patronus had left him feeling weak and trembling. Watching it change and the transformation he felt inside just shocked him. It was as if he felt an inner skin being forcefully tugged and peeled away, ripped from him without ceremony.

His Patronus had changed. He had known somewhere in the back of his mind that it could happen, but he also knew it took dramatic emotional events, usually trauma, for it to occur. The walk back to the castle was hazy, he just felt too hollow and shell-shocked to remember any of it.

It put him in a particularly foul and bitter mood when Filch knocked on his door with the announcement that Umbridge wanted a word with him before morning class.

He took his sweet time getting dressed in petty revenge, hoping she was more and more irritated every minute she had to wait.

However, when he was shown into the room it was empty save for Albus and the Mirror. Snape usually avoided looking at the Mirror when at all possible, though despite his best efforts he usually saw a flash of red hair from the corner of his eye.

Today however, as he was already thinking he should not look, he noticed something different. Instead of a flash of red or green he saw a flash of a ghostly light. Curious, Snape's head had already turned to look at the polished surface before his mind could snap at him not to. There was a silvery, ghostly beast frolicking on the mirror's surface. A Patronus.

A Patronus of an otter.

Wondering what on earth it could possibly mean, he heard Albus stir and grunt awake. The old man was eagerly trying to catch his eye and gestured for him to hurry forward. Snape considered lingering and walking over as slowly as possible, he was in a spiteful mood, but strode over in a few steps.

“Miss Granger, is she-”

Snape sighed wearily. “Is fine.”

Albus looked relieved, patting his snowy white beard with shaking fingers. Though he was a portrait now, a likeness and small essence of the true Albus Dumbledore, his time locked away in the room had begun to show on his face. Snape thought he looked thinner and more haggard.

“Why is the Granger girl back here? Why hasn't she fled the country yet?”

Albus adjusted his half-moon spectacles, rubbing a cursory finger along the length of his crooked nose. “Did you notice anything unusual when you found her in the forest?”

“She no longer has a wand, else she would have used it against the Dementor attack. She was carrying a different object instead...it was round, about so big, with a rune in the center.”

Snape could see an idea, half-formed, poking at the back of Albus' mind. He frowned, trying to make sense of it. “What was the rune?”

It was one Snape was unfamiliar with, so he traced it onto his palm with a finger.

“That is a goblin rune.”

“Goblin?” Snape frowned. That was an unusual creature to consort with, and usually did not end pleasantly for the witch or wizard involved.

Albus suddenly sighed, a long tremulous breath that rattled past his lips. “The Mirror of Erised is goblin-forged... and it has passed from my possession to Dolores Umbridge.”

Snape frowned in confusion. “Is it not passed from Headmaster to Headmaster?”

“It is an ancient goblin heirloom. They will not acknowledge Headmistress Umbridge as the rightful owner of the Mirror.” Albus peered intently from his frame. “If this is Miss Granger's true purpose for staying here, you _must_ help her, Severus.”

Snape's lip instantly curled with distaste. “Even in death you would say 'must' to me. I am heartily sick of being your pawn, Albus. I will do as I will.”

He refused to speak to Albus for the rest of the time until Umbridge came sashaying into the room, crowing her delight for the second supposed death of Hermione Granger.

***

_Dear Harry,_

_The Dementors were for me, but I'm fine now. Someone helped me, I'm not sure who. Do you know anyone who has a raven for a Patronus? Or a doe?_

_I'm even more certain now that the Mirror must be somewhere beyond that tunnel in Umbridge's office. But I have now hit upon another problem. How do I get the Mirror out? Did Dumbledore tell you anything about it back in first year? I know it is a very powerful magical object... I don't think this will be simple._

_If you can, please send a Quibbler or a Prophet with the next owl. I want to read something so badly._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Hermione tied the note to Hedwig's leg as the owl affectionately nipped at her ear. Hedwig couldn't come as often because she was so distinctive, but the times she did Hermione cherished because the owl knew her and seemed to fuss over her.

Hedwig's snowy wings beat in the glum light of the forest, soaring above the tree lines and shrinking as a dot into the sky. Hermione didn't hear the second pair of wings, but could sense the raven behind her and turned to look over. It landed on the ground and did its funny little hop as it came closer to her.

She smirked at it, only briefly thinking how odd it was to speak to a raven that wasn't even a true bird. “Do _you_ know how I can get the Mirror out of the school?”

The raven quorked and groomed its breast feathers. Though it looked very clever and sure of itself, it offered no answers. Instead it stayed with her as she went to find her morning source of water and ate cold sandwiches.

***

_Stir counter-clockwise every third rotation until the potion simmers clear._

Severus always felt at peace when brewing, it was one of the times when he was completely alone with just his work and his thoughts. It was also the best time for thinking, and while tending to his cauldrons he found his mind simmering and overturning ideas as well.

So far, Umbridge believed the Dementors had left some shell of Hermione Granger behind in the forest. She was satisfied for now, but Severus knew it wouldn't last. The Mirror would soon reveal to her that Granger was still alive, or even more perverse, Umbridge may want to go collect her remains. In either case, she would want this poison he was brewing right now.

And it would have to be _this_ poison.

This potion did not have a name, which only added to its mysterious qualities. Its initial incarnation began with Barnabas the Barking (...the bloody names people had back in the day...) and the particular formula Severus was creating right now was one with several of his own modifications. It was clear, tasteless, worked best when mixed with food, and once ingested only took thirty seconds to a minute to take full effect.

It also had an antidote. But _only_ if the potion were administered correctly. Severus gritted his teeth... it wasn't as if he could be there to spoon feed it to the girl directly.

It was not a fully-formed plan yet... but at least they all now had a fighting chance.

***

“...if I have to _burn the entire forest down!_ ”

“Dolores, please.” Albus felt like sobbing, though he had no tears within him. Umbridge's rage at discovering she had been made a fool of again caused the very ceiling of the room to shudder with her indignant shrieks.

Umbridge let out one last incoherent scream before raising her fists up above her head. Albus suddenly realized her intention and cried out, “No! No, you mustn't!”

“MUSTN'T!” She bellowed at him.

Snape stood coldly by the doorway where he had just entered, his black eyes surveying the scene. “If you smash the Mirror of Erised, Headmistress, you will never again learn the location of Granger's whereabouts.”

Umbridge slowly lowered her hands, though she was still panting like a bulldog, her face contorted. Snape bemusedly thought this was perhaps even more dangerous than letting her smash the Mirror, as now her anger had no visible outlet.

“I have a suggestion to offer in that regard,” he continued carefully, pulling out a small glass vial from his sleeve.

Albus looked at him, wounded, as if Snape's betrayal had physically slapped him across the face. Snape kept his glance carefully away from the old man's as Umbridge greedily snatched up the poison.

She had only one question for him. “How?”

Snape looked out the window and saw it was already the evening traffic of owl post from the castle. Some were swooping overhead the dark border of the Forbidden Forest. He casually jerked his head towards them.

***

_Dear Hermione_ ,

_Those Dementors were awful. Neville and I were dealing with students having awful nightmares the whole time. We pretty much gave up after a while and let everyone stay up in the Common room and tell stories._

_I haven't ever heard of someone with that kind of Patronus. There's one sixth-year student in my advanced class and his is an owl, but it is still very misty and doesn't retain its shape for long. Whoever this person is though, I don't like it. It may be a trap._

_I couldn't find any copies of the Quibbler, but I've sent along an old Prophet. Let me know if you need anything else._

_Love,_

Harry turned around startled as the door to the Owlery banged open. It was the dead of night, well past midnight and so no students should have been up here. His heart stopped when he saw it was Umbridge, Filch and Snape.

“ _Accio letter!_ ”

Harry's note flew from his hand towards Umbridge's outstretched, pudgy fingers. Her squinted eyes scanned the top of the parchment greedily and then saw no more, already burning with a vindicated fire.

“Sending secret notes, Mr. Potter?”

Harry knew he was caught, there was no lie that would save him from this. He was also outnumbered, and was sure he would only make things worse for himself so he kept his mouth shut and stood still. He saved a particularly hate-filled gaze for Snape, who only looked bored.

Umbridge grabbed Hedwig roughly, struggling slightly as the large snowy owl hooted and tried to fly away.

“Don't hurt her!” Harry snapped. “Hedwig, just stay still.”

His owl hooted furiously at him, clacking her beak, but then settled down on her perch after Umbridge had let her go. To Harry's surprise, Umbridge tied his note onto Hedwig's leg. But then she brought forth a different paper sack for Hedwig to deliver. His owl looked ready to protest and fight back, but Umbridge picked Hedwig up again and forcefully tossed her out the window. Hedwig screeched but was forced to fly away.

“Now, Mr. Potter... it seems you've been aiding a fugitive and wanted person from the Ministry of Magic. This is a very serious crime...I will have to detain you in the dungeons until a Ministry official can come collect you. You _and_ Mr. Longbottom, to be on the safe side.”

Harry still said nothing, not wanting to give her the satisfaction, as she magically bound his wrists and Filch frogmarched him out of the Owlery. He could feel his face burning with anger.

He glared up at Snape, hatred filling him and making his stomach heavy. As Filch roughly shoved him into the corridor, however, Harry saw Snape bring one finger surreptitiously to the side of his nose and tap the bridge lightly. Wondering what it could mean, he stumbled forward down the dark corridor, hoping Hermione would be safe.


	9. Chapter 9

“England is safe now. England is safe from nasty subversives like you and Mr. Longbottom. I knew I had vipers all around me, Potter, I knew you were always trouble. Even when you were just a boy...so fond of telling lies...”

Harry stared broodingly back through the bars of the dungeon. “I was right though, wasn't I? Voldemort _did_ come back...it wasn't a lie.”

Umbridge swelled up. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came back _because of you!_ You're the reason he came back, you're the reason England was in danger again-”

Harry was so startled by the injustice of it all, he forgot to stay calm and not show her he was angry. He sprang to his feet, almost bumping his head against the low ceiling of the dungeon.

“I DIDN'T ASK FOR MY PARENTS TO BE MURDERED!”

He was suddenly thrown off his feet, a jet of red light hitting him in the gut and knocking him backwards. Winded, Harry struggled upwards, groping in the dankness for his glasses. Umbridge stood with a furious look on her face, his wand still spitting out angry red sparks.

To be hexed with his own wand...the bitter taste lingered in his mouth. Umbridge didn't even say anything to him then, she just stormed away.

Harry held his head in his hands and moaned. How had everything gone so wrong?

***

“Thank you, Hedwig,” Hermione said brightly as she gathered the package from Harry. She reached up to pet Hedwig's breast feathers but the owl hooted loudly and immediately flapped away. Hurt, Hermione watched as she left. Hedwig had never been so curt with her before...though she supposed everyone was allowed to have a bad day.

She held the talisman in her hand, thought: _water_ , and went in search of her stream.

She heard a caw above her and knew it was her patronus raven friend. The raven settled on her shoulder, leaving its wispy, smoky trail behind. This trip had fallen into a bizarre little ritual, but Hermione hadn't minded in the slightest as it was nice to have any sort of company. She knew in the back of her mind that she was only asking for trouble if she allowed herself to feel completely safe with the raven around...but it was difficult to stay paranoid all the time.

Sitting by the stream after her morning wash and drinking some water, Hermione read Harry's note and saw that those same concerns had gone through his mind. She looked up at the raven.

“I suppose you could be a trap...although I don't understand why you would save me from the Dementors just to hurt me again.”

The raven tilted its head to the side, puzzled.

“Do you understand me, friend?”

The raven shook its whole body, its feathers ruffling, and Hermione thought it looked so silly she just laughed. Eagerly, she dug into the paper sack for the food Harry had sent. It all looked delicious, he had outdone himself this time. A ham sandwich, an egg salad sandwich, some cold sausages, some shortbread cookies with jam and a crisp red apple.

Hermione looked at her bounty and was just about to start with one of the sausages when the raven cawed alarmingly and flew straight at her. Startled, Hermione dropped the food.

“What on earth was that for?”

The raven hopped up and down on the ground, cawing in distress. Hermione picked up the sausage again, this time gesturing it towards the raven, and this only seemed to upset it more. It leapt up into the air and flew a few circles, landing on Hermione's shoulder.

“What is it, little friend? What are you trying to tell me?”

She did not think it was possible, but the raven gave her an exasperated look. It flew ahead of her a few feet, stopped and cawed at her. It jabbed at her angrily with its beak a few times, cawing some more.

“All right, all right,” Hermione muttered. She got up to her feet and walked over to where the raven was. It fluttered its wings and took off into the air again, flying ahead somewhere deeper into the woods. It stopped and flew back every now and again to make sure she was coming.

“What's so bloody important it couldn't wait after breakfast?” She complained, until finally she stood in front of a tree the raven was jabbing at excitedly with its beak. Hermione looked, thought sourly to herself that it looked like any other tree, and then down to the raven with annoyance. It was doing its odd little hopping dance again, so she ran her fingers over the trunk and tried to see if anything was different.

Just as she was about to give up the raven as crazy, her fingers suddenly slipped into a groove in the bark and scraped against something stiff. Puzzled, Hermione pushed her fingers deeper into the spot and the tips of her fingers pressed against what felt like a tight little roll. Slowly, carefully, she pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment.

Her heart started hammering in her throat. What on earth was this doing in here? Stunned, she unraveled the parchment and saw a small note, written in cramped, spiky handwriting.

_For the girl hidden in the woods full of sorrow and strife_

_Heed my words well should you wish to stay alive_

_The queen's jaws grow closer with no more places to hide_

_You must take a leap of faith and by my instructions abide_

_For the delicious treasures of meat, sweet and bread_

_Reject all morsels lest you fall dead instead_

_Think of the girl pale as snow who lived on in lore_

_Swallow her doom's sake, and do this one thing more_

_In the center of all flesh, the stone of life and growing might_

_Three of those, no more, and I shall come for you in the night_

Hermione's eyes scanned over the parchment once, twice, three times and she looked up to the raven.

_“_ Feathered friend...what is all this?”

The raven quorked at her, and then to her sadness, flew up into the air and disappeared in the sun's rays. She wished it would have stayed longer, especially as she felt like the ground was slipping out from under her and she was being plunged into a tunnel without knowing where it lead to.

_Who sent this note? What does this note mean?_

She knew it was addressed to her, that was for certain. She was the girl in the forest of sorrow and strife, though it had kept her alive and hidden from Umbridge so far.

_The queen's jaws grow closer..._

Well, that was chilling, though simple enough to understand.

_...no more places to hide._

Umbridge knew she was here. She knew Hermione was still here and her attempts to flush her out were going to get a lot nastier than a few dementors. That was nasty enough.

Time to take a leap of faith. Well, Hermione had no idea whether she could trust the sender of this note. She was sure it was the same as the caster of her raven Patronus friend, but she still didn't know if she could trust this mystery person. A leap of faith... if Umbridge was coming after her though, and Hermione had no doubt that was a matter of 'when' and not 'if', then it seemed like she did have little choice but to trust someone.

When Hermione finally made her way back to her little tent site she looked at the food still laid perfectly out on the brown paper packaging.

_Reject all meat, sweet and bread._

Hermione looked at the food curiously. They all looked delicious and fresh and as if nothing were wrong with them, though being overly cautious made sure she did not touch them again. She looked over the note for the umpteenth time, trying to puzzle out some of its meaning.

_The girl pale as snow...from lore..._ That sounded like Snow White to her. Just as she thought that her eyes fell to the apple that came with the rest of the food. It was a bright, shiny red.

_The poisoned apple...but this note is telling me to eat it._

Eat it, but do one thing more. _In the center of all flesh, the stone of life and growing might._

Hermione puzzled over what that might be. In the center of all flesh could be a reference to the heart, it was certainly the beginning of life in all proverbial sense...though she rarely heard it referred to as a stone. Stone...what other things inside the body were referred to as 'stone'?

She grew frustrated as she kept bumping into mental roadblocks.

_A stone is a stone is a stone! A hard, big, mossy rock! Unless you mean something like cherry stones, but that's a fruit-_

She suddenly stopped and looked at the apple in her hand. The _seeds_. The seeds were in the center of the apple flesh and were the 'stone of life'.

_Three of those, no more, and I shall come for you in the night._

The beginning was clear, but the rest merely gave her shivers. She did not know who or what was coming for her in the night, whether it was metaphorical or literal, but she knew at least what the note wanted her to do. Eat none of the food except for the apple, and make sure to swallow three of its seeds.

What was that going to accomplish? How was this going to hide her from Umbridge? Hermione didn't know...she tried to think of all the different potions she knew and their properties for any that might apply to this situation.

_A leap of faith_.

Hermione looked at the note again, her lips twisted in a frown. The main question, of course, was who sent this note? She could feel an idea niggling at the back of her mind, but she knew it was still too faint for her to make sense of it at the moment. The note came as a riddle...it reminded her a little of the logic puzzle protecting the Mirror of Erised back in first year...though this riddle wasn't so much a puzzle.

It was tailored to her, she realized. Cloaked enough in a riddle that it would have been difficult to decipher for someone unused to analyzing material, and the reference to Snow White was not one many wizards or witches would know. They had their own pantheon of folklore and fairy stories, but any Muggleborn or mixed parentage witch and wizard would know of Snow White. Without that inherent knowledge, however, no one who read this note would know to eat the apple.

Whoever had sent this had obviously put a lot of effort into it...and knew something about her. Hermione didn't know whether or not to feel scared about this, but her gut was finally telling her to trust that this person wanted to keep her alive.

She made sure one last time the goblin talisman was tucked safely into her pocket. She folded the note carefully and tucked it away into her robes.

Finally she picked up the apple and bit hard into it. She ripped away enough flesh that she could see the core inside. Carefully, she shook out the seeds and popped three into her mouth. Taking another bite of the apple flesh, the juice helped her swallow the small seeds.

It tasted crisp, sweet and delicious.

Hermione slowly started to feel her limbs grow heavy, and just as she was thinking that was strange she found she could not lift them at all. Chewing mechanically, she found even that was an effort, and concentrated all her will onto swallowing. She didn't want to choke like this.

Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and she slipped away into a welcoming, warm darkness.

***

The silvery white raven burst from the tip of his wand and fluttered about in the inky night gloom. Severus still felt disconcerted every time he saw his new Patronus, not yet accustomed to the absence of the silver doe.

The raven squawked at him, fluttering about his face until he began to move. This Patronus was certainly much cheekier. Whereas the doe always filled him with a quiet sort of sadness, this Patronus was much livelier and had more personality. Another difference he had not anticipated.

When he found Granger she looked as still as a picture, faintly illuminated by the ghostly light of his raven. She lay still, nestled against the roots of a tree with the apple, half-eaten, just a few inches away from her outstretched fingertips.

She looked so small and peaceful. Severus caught himself wondering how this was the girl who had so harassed him in Potions class, constantly rabbiting on about some bloody book she had read. _Little Miss Know-It-All_... well, she did not look so different from back then. A little taller perhaps, her face had lost a bit of the plump roundness children had...

_So you're here to save us all from that troll-woman..._

Severus bent down, his raven Patronus hopping onto his shoulder, and gently picked her up. He knew that with the poison he had given her no amount of shaking or disturbance would stir her, but he took care to be gentle all the same. Making sure she was nestled securely in his arms, he picked his way out of the forest and marched towards Hogwarts castle.

***

When Severus laid Hermione down on the floor by the Mirror of Erised, still gently, Albus broke into a bout of unashamed weeping by the wall. Severus glanced up briefly to see the old man with his face buried in his hands, though no tears stained his eyes. It was rather the retching sob that came deep within the chest of hurt and grief.

Even Umbridge let him grieve, remaining quiet instead of shouting her jubilation. The look on her face was one of contentment, a bone-deep content and weariness that plainly said: _now it is done_.

Severus laid her hands so that they were folded over her chest, just like at a funeral. The silver otter reflected in the mirror bounced and swam happily in the air above her. Still wondering what it could possibly mean, he looked down to Granger, briefly thought at her: _just a little more_ , and got up.

Umbridge patted him on the shoulder and he had to fight down the urge to cringe. “It is a difficult thing to see a former student pass away, no matter how justified their end. Let us give Headmaster Dumbledore his privacy...in death he must have many complicated things to think about.”

The skewed _understanding_ , the attempt at sympathy was even worse than her dancing around in glee. “What are you planning to do with Miss Granger's remains? Display them?”

The look on Umbridge's face let Snape know that his pithy throw-away comment was actually correct, and he nearly stared at her in horror. “The world must see their false idols shattered...or else they will always mistake deception for good.”

Umbridge looked down at Hermione's still body, the chest not even rising or falling in breath. “I have recalled the Dementors. They will be here to transport Miss Granger to the Ministry headquarters tomorrow. Good night, Professor.”

_Good night, indeed._ Snape swept out of the room and was only thinking, _I have a few hours..._

***

“Get up, Potter.”

Harry stirred in his sleep, thinking to himself that he was having a peculiar dream.

“ _Get up you lazy good-for-nothing!_ ”

Harry felt something very hard prod him then and startled, grappling uselessly for the wall beside him. He blinked owlishly in the darkness for a moment until his vision cleared and he saw Snape tapping his wand to the bars. With a squeal and groan of iron they bent apart and made a hole large enough for Harry to squeeze through.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded. Snape rolled his eyes.

“Even when I'm trying to rescue you I get no gratitude. I shouldn't have expected any.”

Abashed, Harry wriggled his way through the bars. “Do you have my wand?”

“Unfortunately I could not locate that. Umbridge has it locked up somewhere in her office.”

Snape ignored Harry as he made his way to Neville's cell and parted the bars there. Harry helped haul Neville to his feet.

“What's going on?” Neville wondered. “Where's Hermione?”

“She's in the room with the Mirror of Erised. There isn't any time to explain, but we must get to her quickly.”

With that Snape had already turned on his heel and was hurrying out of the dungeons. Neville and Harry shared a look, Neville looking distrustfully at Snape, but Harry tugged on his arm and pulled him forward. This was their only chance.

Snape led them out of the dungeon and up the winding stairs to the main floor of Hogwarts. The castle was deadly quiet and empty. Neville still had a suspicious frown on his face as they stuck to the shadows and halted every now and again.

“Why isn't anyone around? He's _up_ to something, Harry.”

Harry prodded him gently in the ribs so he would shut up. By the way Snape's hackles rose, he was sure the other man heard, but Snape ignored the whispering behind him and continued silently.

They finally made their way to Umbridge's office and the gargoyles sprang aside. In front of the door, Snape pulled out his wand and muttered, “ _hominem revello_ ”. The light from his wand flared up once, but then died away quickly after. The office was empty.

They snuck inside, single-file, and Snape moved over to an empty spot on the wall beside two portrait frames. He yanked on a candlestick and the wall slid away to reveal a tunnel, just as Hermione had written in one of her letters. Without looking behind to see if they were following him, Snape plunged into the tunnel with only the tip of his wand lighting the way.

They travelled in the darkness for what seemed like ages to Harry, but finally he saw the light at the end grow brighter and then they were stumbling out into an abandoned corridor of the school. Harry and Neville looked around curiously, they had never seen this part of the school before.

Snape motioned towards a heavy door, and after a few more waves of his wand, slammed his shoulder into it and pushed it open. Harry rushed forwards the second he saw what was beyond the door and fell to where Hermione was lying.

“Headmaster!” Harry heard Neville squeak beside him, and Dumbledore's voice exclaiming in surprise. He didn't care at the moment, he only saw his best friend lying prostate on the ground, cold and pale. He picked up one of her hands and her skin was icy to the touch. He leaned forward and held his ear to her mouth.

He heard and felt nothing and felt hot tears sting at his eyes. Accusingly, he jumped to his feet, jabbing a finger in Snape's direction. “She's _dead!_ ”

Snape looked exasperated and fished in the sleeve of his robes for a small glass vial. He opened his mouth to snap something back before the door creaked open behind him.

“Indeed, she is, Mr. Potter.”

Umbridge swept in with a grin on her face that looked more like an animal baring its teeth. The two Carrow twins stood beside her, and to the horror of everyone in the room, the shadows behind them in the corridor were shifting and becoming more solid. The Dementors.

Umbridge looked pleasantly at Snape and spoke as if they were discussing nothing more serious than afternoon tea. “I did not expect to see you here, Professor Snape. Let alone with Mr. Potter and Longbottom.”

Smoothly, Snape nodded his head in acknowledgment to her, his face already a cool mask of duty. “They escaped from the dungeons and I found them in here. I was attempting to restrain them.”

The Carrows guffawed behind Umbridge, their wands drawn and pointed at Harry and Neville. She still had the pleasant smile on her face, but something in her eyes told Snape that she didn't believe a word he said. She gestured to the vial in his hand. “And that is, Professor? Another poison?”

Snape snorted. “It has been my life's ambition to poison Potter.”

Umbridge giggled, high-pitched and girlish. “Of that I have no doubt! But I think I know who that poison was intended for. Drink it.”

Snape couldn't stop his eyebrows from jumping up in alarm. Her grin widened, stretching out even tighter at that, and she nodded enthusiastically at him. “ _Drink_ it.”

She drew her wand and pointed it at him. Forcing himself not to tremble, Snape flicked the stopper out of the vial with his thumb and slowly brought it to his mouth. He was in a staring match with Umbridge, concentrating to keep the expression on his face mild. He did not want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him scared.

She drew up her wand higher so that it stood level with his heart. He brought the vial to his lips and knocked it back, the pearly liquid sliding down into his mouth. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing lightly.

“Thank you, Severus. You have been quite useful.” With a sudden flourish of her hand, Umbridge's wand spat out sparks and Severus felt an invisible force hit him in the gut. He flew across the room, sliding on the floor towards where Hermione and the Mirror of Erised were.

The Dementors began to swirl into the room as Severus blinked back the stars that were crowding his vision. He struggled to his elbows and felt something warm and wet sliding down his face from his hairline. He was bleeding.

Potter and Longbottom were edging away from the Dementors, both with the desperate looks of animals in a trap trying to find their way out. Umbridge was laughing. Merlin, that woman was just _cackling_.

“A kiss! I think, for two very naughty boys!” She clapped her hands together in a grotesque manner.

Severus crawled forward on his arms to where Hermione was. The Mirror of Erised loomed above them. Though feeling weak and dizzy, he slid a hand underneath her neck and brought her face closer to his. Leaning over her, locks of his black hair were falling onto her face. He brought his face down and pressed his lips to hers, sealing their mouths together and praying silently.

He let go, hoping the moisture on his lips from the antidote, now pressed to hers in a kiss, was enough. Just as he was about to worry that it was all for naught, he saw her eyes open just a crack. Colour flooded into her cheeks and, insanely, a look of amused vindication shone from her eyes.

She whispered, “I _knew_ it was you...”

“ _What_ are you doing, Snape?” He heard Umbridge's voice break through the air like a whip-crack. He looked over and saw a Dementor rushing towards them.

Suddenly, Hermione was plunging her hand into his robes and she brought forth his wand. Pushing him to the side, her arm whipped out with the wand and she bellowed, “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A silver otter burst from the tip of her wand, racing forward to meet the Dementor with an eerily high series of aggressive chatters. The Dementors shrieked as the Patronus burst around the room, chasing them all mercilessly.

Snape could feel black spots clouding his vision and had to focus so he wouldn't pass out. He watched the Patronus zooming around the room and thought dozily to himself: _so that's where the otter comes from..._

“ _Granger!_ GRANGER! _Avada Ked-_ ”

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Umbridge had to dodge at the last second to avoid the curse and a section of the wall exploded behind her head. She looked livid as she struggled to her feet, her curly hair in an unhappy explosion around her face.

Hermione dodged another curse, deflected a second, and tried to fire one of her own. The duel was flying thick and fast. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Neville had gone for broke and charged one of the Carrows with a mad war cry. Somehow it had worked and they were wrestling on the ground, Harry jumping into the fray.

Umbridge was an exceptional duelist, another thing her rather silly appearance disguised. She was aggressive and powerful and _fast_. Hermione felt like she was constantly dancing on her toes just to stand her own ground. Though her fingers itched for her own wand, she found Snape's wand to be surprisingly responsive instead of obstinate and trying to buck her away for not being its owner.

Snape staggered to his feet and suddenly lurched from behind Umbridge. She was so focused on blasting Hermione to smithereens that she had forgotten her surroundings. Snape grabbed her throat from behind and wrenched her to the floor.

“Here!” Hermione cried, tossing him his wand back. He caught it deftly and watched as he conjured his Patronus, that familiar raven, and it screamed like a kamikaze plane as it dive-bombed the Dementors swirling around the chaos.

Hermione dug into her pocket and brought out the talisman. The rune was glowing and pulsing with an erratic tattoo.

“ _I'm going to kill you, you filthy mudblood!_ ”

_The Mirror! The Mirror of Erised! SAGGORATH'S MIRROR!_

The talisman started to warm in her hand and vibrate. Hermione glared at Umbridge and they shared a look of deep mutual hatred, before Hermione turned her gaze to the mirror, her arm already swinging back.

Umbridge must have realized her intention as she suddenly shrieked, “ _No!_ ”

Hermione flung the talisman as hard as she could towards the Mirror's surface. For a second she thought she saw the flapping of wings on its polished surface before the talisman crashed into it. She brought an arm up to her eyes for the spray of broken glass, but after a moment she realized it had not come.

The mirror's surface was rippling as if it were made of water. The talisman had completely disappeared. But now instead of reflecting anyone's desires or even the rooms, Hermione saw the lobby of Gringott's. There was a crowd of goblins standing in the lobby, and Griphook was walking down the center. He tipped his head to her, his tufty ears bobbing up and down, as he practically skipped towards them. He grew larger and larger, and all of a sudden he was stepping _out_ of the Mirror and into the room.

“Well _done_ , Miss Granger, well done.” He pumped her arm up and down enthusiastically. “How very expedient.”

“What is _that_ doing here?”

Griphook looked beyond Hermione to see Umbridge still purple in the face and grappling with Snape. He frowned and tutted. “I see we cannot have a proper discussion with all of this surrounding us. Very well.”

Griphook snapped his fingers and suddenly the Dementors were sent chasing out of the room as if they were balloons that suddenly deflated and raced around a room. The door shut solid and heavy behind them with a bang. Griphook pointed his finger next to the Carrow-Neville-Harry tumble and all sprang apart. The Carrows he magically bound and gagged.

He shook Hermione's hand one last time and then walked over to Umbridge. “Headmistress.”

Umbridge was panting, red in the face, and her hair askew. She looked genuinely astonished and then offended that she was being addressed so cavalierly.

“ _What are you doing in my school without my permission!_ ”

Griphook ignored her and instead pulled out a piece of parchment from the inside of his waistcoat and cleared his throat officiously. “Dolores Umbridge, you have incurred a severe fine with the goblins of Gringott's bank on two occasions. Chiefly, for withholding a possession of the goblins after its due time to be returned on loan, and secondly for preventing the settling of the late Cornelius Fudge's account with the bank.”

Griphook smiled up at her, _his_ grin truly animalistic with sharp teeth poking out from behind his lips. “We have come to settle your debts to us.”

“You... _you filthy little beast!_ You think you can threaten _me_ , a fully-powered witch!” Umbridge drew back her wand hand, a curse beginning to form on her lips, when Griphook casually snapped his fingers.

The wand suddenly broke in her hand and Umbridge jumped back, startled, watching the broken pieces clatter to her feet. Griphook then looked to the Mirror of Erised. Its surface shimmered and rippled again, the sight of Gringott's lobby melting away. When the Mirror's surface stilled again it just showed a dark, never-ending hole.

“Come with me, Headmistress.” Griphook tugged on her arm, which she viciously pulled back. Tutting again in disapproval, as one would a naughty child, Griphook pointed his finger to her and then swept it to the Mirror. Suddenly, Umbridge slid across the floor as if a giant hand were pushing her. She screamed as she was pushed into the Mirror, and then fell through its liquid surface into the abyss.

Hermione and Snape exchanged a disturbed look. She heard Neville fall to the ground in a 'thump' behind her, probably in a faint.

Griphook beamed up at her, as if completely unaware of the disturbance. “Consider your ledgers with Gringott's fully in the clear, Miss Granger. We hope to see you again.”

Hermione breathed quietly, “ _I_ don't”, but Griphook just chuckled at that as he made his way back to the mirror. He cheerily called behind him, “Headmaster Dumbledore, in good health?” before holding the Mirror's frame edge. He snapped his fingers one final time and he and the Mirror of Erised disappeared into thin air.

Hermione stared in shock, and then around the room to the chaos that had been left behind. Everyone seemed too stunned to move, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. She saw Snape grunt in pain and carefully sit down on the floor. Blood was streaming from a cut somewhere in his hairline.

She sat down beside him and with the sleeve of her robe, mopped up some of the blood. She gave him a curious smile. “You would have been in trouble if I hadn’t known the story of Snow White.”

Severus winced a little when she pressed her sleeve to the cut on his head. He looked sour. “I had faith that an insufferable little know-it-all like you would make it a point to be versed in just about anything.”

She pinched him and he squawked in protest, a little like his Patronus which was flying happily around the rafters.


	10. Chapter 10

**EPILOGUE**

“Have you got used to the title yet?”

Snape snorted, clearing papers of the surface of his desk. “No, and I never will. They may call me 'Headmaster' in the evening _Prophet_ , but I know the students still whisper and call me the Great Bat behind my back. Oddly enough I prefer it.”

Hermione looked amusedly at Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait, hung back in his old spot. “Was he like this as a student, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore patted his snowy white beard and chuckled. “He grows more acerbic with age, Miss Granger.”

Hermione looked around the Headmaster's office and immediately decided she liked all of it. It was subtly decorated in Slytherin's colours with green and silver trim or banners tastefully placed nearer to the desk. It had been so long since a Slytherin professor had made Headmaster that Snape had decided to be a little more ostentatious.

Best of all, beside Dumbledore's portrait was a new one of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. She had decided to return to Hogwarts after Umbridge left and she proved to be as challenging and interesting to speak to as ever in portrait form. Hermione often came into the office to hear her and Snape in a furious debate over who was the fairer professor, or their respective house's prestige on the Quidditch pitch.

“Have you considered my offer, Miss Granger?” Snape pretended not to look at her and like he was more interested in the book on his desk, but Hermione knew better.

“I'm afraid my answer is the same, Headmaster. I'll have to refuse you.”

Snape sighed and irritably blew a strand of hair away from his face. “I'll give you better wages than anyone else on staff.”

Hermione laughed but still shook her head.

“There is _no one else_ I trust to teach these little morons Potions without having them blowing each other up or accidentally poisoning themselves.”

“I'm so flattered, Severus, but I would never want to work beneath you.” She had to bite back her snorts of laughter for the look on his face that particular comment inspired. “Besides...I wouldn't want to run into that risky grey area of the Hogwarts charter.”

Snape was still glaring daggers at her, his black eyes glittering. “And what section of the charter would that be?”

Hermione raised a suggestive eyebrow. “The disallowance of inter-staff relationships.”

Snape was still glaring at her until the look suddenly dropped from his face. Still with an amused smirk playing around her mouth Hermione gathered her coat, said, “I'll wait outside” and left the office.

Snape sat for a moment behind his desk and was suddenly struck with the feeling that he didn't want to be Headmaster. Not that he wasn't excited about the position or thought he would do well, just that it wasn't what he _wanted_. The Mirror of Erised had known that.

Though perhaps it was better not have such an object around.

Snape rose quickly out of his chair and grabbed his cloak. He rushed for the door, passing Albus' portrait along the way. That insufferable old man was giving him one of those _looks_ again.

He bellowed, “And not a word out of you!” before slamming the door shut behind him and running to catch up with Hermione Granger.

**END**


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